


Dreams to Daylight

by RivetingRosie



Series: Blindly Running Down Disaster Road [3]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe of sorts, Angst, Breastfeeding, Canon Compliant, Child Loss, Childbirth, Coping, Diary/Journal, Digital Art, Dreams, Dreams vs. Reality, During Canon, Emotional, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, Emotionally Repressed, Escapism, F/M, Family, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Family Loss, Father-Daughter Relationship, Father-Son Relationship, Fatherhood, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, Honeymoon, Hurt Arthur Morgan, Implied Sexual Content, Loneliness, Loss, Loving Marriage, Making Love, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Memories, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Content, Mutual Pining, Near Death Experiences, Neck Kissing, Original Character(s), Papa Arthur Morgan, Parent-Child Relationship, Parenthood, Pining, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Pregnancy, Pregnant Sex, Regret, Slice of Life, Tragedy, Wedding Fluff, Wedding Rings, What-If, Wishes, Young Arthur Morgan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:48:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 78,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27153388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RivetingRosie/pseuds/RivetingRosie
Summary: "He began to both dread and yearn for his dreams—uneasy over what he might see, but still filled with inescapable longing just to be near the two of them."After having lost Eliza & Isaac and avenging their deaths, Arthur struggles to cope and keeps his grief intensely private, refraining from even journaling about them. His intense emotions grapple with him until they leak into his dreams, the only outlet he's left for them. Memories first, then regrets, then wishes and lovely imaginings for what could've been.*This is the third work in a series. While you canabsolutelyread it as is, it might make a little more sense if you read "Only Fools Hold onto Hope" and Part 2 of "Disaster Road" first. This works picks up after "Disaster Road" chronologically.***While this work is not graphic, there will be one chapter that is very emotionally intense.*****New chapter added regularly! And comments always welcome!***
Relationships: Arthur Morgan & Isaac Morgan, Arthur Morgan & Other(s), Eliza/Arthur Morgan
Series: Blindly Running Down Disaster Road [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1636858
Comments: 90
Kudos: 75





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [moreghostthanhuman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moreghostthanhuman/gifts), [boffeeceans](https://archiveofourown.org/users/boffeeceans/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’re coming directly from "Only Fools Hold onto Hope," reading these chapters first might give you some context for this work: <https://archiveofourown.org/works/20780027/chapters/51519091>

1894

the same year he lost Eliza & Isaac

  
“I'm a hummingbird  
looking for sweet water  
to ease you off my mind.”

\- Johnnyswim, “Hummingbird”

Late one evening, Arthur sat in the middle of camp slowly nursing a bottle of whiskey with his elbow on the table and his head in his hand. Most everybody had already gone to bed, save Dutch and a couple others. He forced himself to swallow, though every gulp was painful. And each sip from the bottle was making his chest heavier, not lighter.  
Out of the darkness Abigail approached the table, but he didn’t look up.  
“One's too few company, I always say,” she said sweetly.  
He made no answer.  
“Penny for your thoughts…”  
Again, he made no attempt at an answer.  
She sighed and looked up. “Sky's just full to the brim with stars tonight,” she whispered.  
He chuckled softly. “Only you ever notice ‘em.”  
She looked at him. “Who's Eliza?”  
He whipped his head up at her. “What?”  
“You just called me Eliza. It’s Abigail.”  
He slowly looked away again and brought the bottle up to his lips. “I know just who you are, Abigail.”  
She brought her other hand to the table and leaned forward with a smile. “Dutch’s hardworkin' man… You put in a full day's work with the rest of ‘em; seems to me you oughta be in bed by now. Do you ever sleep?” she chuckled.  
“Do you?”  
Her grin faltered for just a moment, but she passed over his words. “You’re different tonight. Been watchin' you with that same bottle for the past hour. Way you treat it, must taste awful bad. Haven’t managed to get a quarter of it down, have you?”  
He sighed and rested his head in his hand again.  
“You seem down, Arthur.”  
With a quiet comment on how late it was, he planted the bottle back on the table and stood. When she brought a hand to his forearm, he stopped.  
“We all got ghosts a' some kind, don’t we? Hardest part is figurin' out how to get on with life while they’re hangin' over your shoulder.” She gently rubbed his forearm and watched his shoulders slack. “You oughta try somethin’ besides hooch every once in a while,” she chuckled, watching as he began to turn his head back to her. “Wanna know what I got in mind?”  
Arthur turned and saw someone else standing there, looking him straight in the eyes.

“ _Come away, love_ ,” Eliza whispered. “ _Come away._ ”

His brows drew up. “What’d you just say?”  
“I said come with me.” She slid her hand down into his and found no resistance when she pulled him with her.  
At the mouth of his tent in the center of camp, Dutch lifted his cigar as he watched the two of them duck into her tent.  
Once she’d gotten Arthur inside, Abigail made sure the tent flap was pinned closed behind them. She immediately turned back and hastily kissed him on the mouth. He took her by the arms and pulled her away, standing her up straight and looking at her.  
She looked up and saw a few things there that were foreign to her in the faces of those that looked back at her: confusion rather than focus, longing rather than lust, sorrow rather than excitement. But one thing she recognized plain as day was loneliness.  
She looked down and began unbuttoning his shirt. She continued unbuttoning as she rose up on her tiptoes and kissed him again, not as hastily this time. When she drew back and looked up into his eyes, she started with her own buttons. As she shed her blouse, she saw the cloud of confusion finally begin to slowly dissipate from his eyes. But the longing, sorrow, and loneliness were all still there.  
She kissed him again and felt his big hands come to her bare back as she pulled at his suspenders and slipped his breeches off.

Later that evening Abigail smirked at him from her place beside him on the cot.  
“I never woulda guessed it. You of all people…” she shook her head as he sat up and turned to sit on the edge of the cot. “You’re the tenderest, gentlest lover of any man here, Arthur Morgan. About scared the livin’ hell outta me.” She giggled and rested a hand on his long-john clad back, watching him hunch over, put both elbows on his knees, and bring both hands to his head. “I know your secret now.”  
“You don’t know my secret,” he returned, glancing back at her. He reached for his breeches, pulled them on, and stepped into his boots.  
“Where you goin'?”  
He looked back at her. “You can’t honestly try to tell me you’re willin' to make a real go at this.” He watched her smile slowly fade as she swallowed. “That’s what I thought.”  
He stood and began dressing, pulling the sleeves of his shirt onto his arms. “Seventeen-year-old sleepin' with a goddamn thirty-one-year-old,” he grumbled. “It’s a goddamn sin. And I ain’t even a religious man."  
Without looking at her, he began buttoning his shirt. “I know you’re sweet on young John. Just ain’t managed to bed ‘im yet.” He pulled his suspenders over his arms. “You’re probably angry with him for somethin’.”  
She opened her mouth in protest.  
“Thing is…” he said, looking down as he pressed his thumb into the palm of his other hand, “what I know is the stupid bastard don’t know just how good he got it.”  
Abigail tried to get a blush going on her cheeks as she scrunched her shoulders up and leaned forward. “That’s real nice a’ you to say.”  
He looked back at her and slowly looked forward again as if startled from a dream. “It’s very little to do with you.” He turned and swung his jacket around his shoulders. “Don’t come round me no more,” he said as he started to leave the tent.  
“I—”  
“I _said_ ,” he looked back at her as he ducked his head for the opening, “don’t even look my way, woman.”

* * *

“Pain is alive in a broken heart.  
Past never does go away.  
We were born to love,  
and we’re born to pay  
the price for our mistakes.

Grace, she comes with a heavy load.  
Memories, they can’t be erased.  
Like a pill I swallow—  
it makes me well  
and leaves an awful taste.

Oh, I know this song won’t do  
enough to prove my love to you.  
In my heart, you’ll always know  
there is a place only Love can go.  
There is a place only you can go.”

\- Needtobreathe, “A Place Only You Can Go”  
<https://youtu.be/Pj7dXa1pD-k>


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arthur’s commentary on the scene in his dreams will always be in bold. This is to differentiate between the Arthur who is dreaming and the Arthur he sees as part of his dreams.

"He was such a good kid. She was too, I guess."

\- Arthur

* * *

One evening as Arthur slept, he was taken in his dreams to a barn. As he stood looking at it, he couldn’t feel the warmth of the sunshine on his face, nor the tiniest breeze that he saw float through the leaves on nearby trees. Didn’t hear the dirt crunch beneath his boots as he shifted his weight.  
He walked into the barn to see a younger version of himself standing by Eliza’s horse Samson, brushing his mane. Arthur looked to his right to see Isaac sitting on the workbench. He must’ve been about three, no older than four.  
This was a memory.  
Arthur watched his younger self look over at Isaac with a smile. “You wanna come pet him? I know you like the velvet part on his nose.”  
“Yeah,” Isaac said with a big grin, hopping down and walking over.  
His younger self lifted him up and held him while he stroked and patted between the horse's nostrils. Isaac looked back at his father and mumbled a giggle, to which his father smiled and huffed a chuckle.  
“Yeah, good ol' Samson." He looked up and stroked the horse’s neck, still managing to hold Isaac with one arm. "Quite a horse.”  
“Musta bucked ya a lot when you first caught ‘im.”  
He smirked. “Actually, your mama broke this horse.”  
Isaac’s brows came together as he looked at him. “Really?”  
“Yup.”  
“Are you sure?”  
“Sure as I’m standin’ here.”  
As he listened to their conversation, Arthur smiled and nodded at the memory of Eliza on that horse for the first time.  
“Made it look easy too,” he huffed a little laugh. “Taught me a lot about horses and how to treat ‘em, stuff I thought I already knew.” He reached out and smoothed his hand down the horse’s neck, still managing to hold Isaac with one arm. “And he won’t take nobody but her. Ol’ faithful Samson. He’s a good boy.”  
Isaac looked back at him with a bright smile. “I like the way you say it.”  
“What—boy?”  
“ _Boah_ ,” Isaac repeated, looking down at his mouth.  
“Boy.”  
“ _Boah_.” Isaac giggled.  
“I don’t say it any special way!” his father smirked, shaking his head as he put him back down.  
Isaac walked back to the bench and climbed back up. When he turned to sit forward, he swung his dangling feet back and forth. After a few minutes of watching Arthur continue to tend to the horse, he sighed.  
“Hey, Arthur?”  
“Yeah.”  
“You like it when I talk to you, right?”  
“‘Course,” he chuckled. “What is it you wanna talk about?”  
“Well, I got a question.”  
“Okay. Go ahead.”  
“As far back as I can ‘member, you always been there, Arthur.”  
Arthur watched his younger self freeze.  
“Yeah…”  
“And I know you always tell me the truth.”  
He cleared his throat. “Sure.”  
Isaac pursed his lips to the side. “…Why… Why you think my papa don’t want me?”  
“ _What?_ ” he whipped his head to him, his brows in a twist. “Who told you that? Not your mother.”  
Isaac shook his head. “Nobody. I’m just guessing, I guess.”  
“What makes you guess that?”  
“All the other boys and girls in town have mamas _and_ papas. I asked Mama, and she says I got one.”  
“Yeah… You do. Just like everybody.”  
“But then…why won’t he ever come see me? Mama’s good. So it can’t be that he don’t like her. It’s gotta be me.” He huffed hard and bowed his head low, his voice high and pinched when he spoke again, almost in tears. “I know Mama loves me, and I try to be good. I try to be good for her. Really, I do. Sometimes I do the wrong thing. Sometimes I don’t listen. I just think if I were gooder, my papa might want me.”  
“No, no…”  
Arthur swallowed hard and clenched his jaw, watching forlornly as his younger self sighed and hung his head, trying to keep his brows from drawing up as he came to sit beside him.  
“Isaac…” he rubbed his neck. “You’re a good kid. A real good kid. Best I know. Just don’t worry about your pa, all right? He’s a moron. You don’t need him.”  
“But if everybody _has_ a pa, that means everybody _needs_ a pa.”  
“Naw. It ain’t the same thing. I didn’t have a pa. Well, I mean, I did. But I was much better off after he…” he cleared his throat, “left. That ain’t to say I’m the best feller, by any means, but…” He looked down at his son, who was peering up at him with a confused look. “I’ve lost ya, haven’t I?”  
Isaac nodded.  
He scoffed a laugh. “Come here, I wanna show you somethin',” he said scooping him up, walking out of the barn with him on one arm.  
Arthur followed them.  
“I can walk on my _own_ ,” Isaac said with a sassy smile.  
“Sure, but…don’t you like it when I carry you?”  
“Mmm…yeah,” he said with a big grin as he threw his arms around his neck, and they both chuckled.  
His father carried him all the way past the tree line behind the house.  
“I know where we’re going. The creek!” Isaac said.  
“The creek, that’s right. Is that…'creek,' like 'tree,' or 'crick,' like, ‘I got a crick in my neck somethin’ fierce'?”  
“'Creek!' Like 'tree,' silly! You know the letters,” he laughed.  
He chuckled with him. “Yeah, mama’s been teachin' you your letters, huh?”  
He nodded. “She wants me to be ahead of everybody when I finally get to go to school. That means no 'ain’t,' and no 'crick,'” he squinted with a smile, shaking his head.  
He grinned and nodded. “Good, that’s good.”  
Isaac scrunched his shoulders and face and went into a whisper. “Even though, sometimes she’s not very good at remembering, and she still says 'ain’t.'”  
He laughed. “She ain't— She’s not around. You don’t gotta whisper.”  
“Oh yeah!” he said, relaxing his shoulders and lifting his head.  
He walked with him another several hundred yards and pointed to where the creek came over the cliffside. “See that? See where the water comes over the edge, and the earth is dipped under it in the middle there? You gotta be like the water, Isaac. Not the rock.”  
“What do you mean?” Isaac said, scrunching up his nose.  
“Well,” he said, sitting down on the grass with him in his lap, “what do you think of when you think of water? Is it hard or soft?”  
“Soft.”  
“Yeah. But it’s still strong. It goes where it wants to, and nothin' in its way can stop it, not even the rock. Even rocks have to move for it. See?” He pointed to a couple pebbles that were rolling under the rushing water. He lifted his gaze back to the cliff as the cool breeze blew both their necks under their hair. “It even cuts the big rock. Point is, it makes its own path. And look at it.” They looked back down to where the creek came before them. “It’s still strong and healthy. Make sense?”  
“I guess.”  
**“Don’t tell him that shit!”** Arthur shouted. But they couldn’t hear him. It was like he wasn’t there.   
“And isn’t it just one of the prettiest things you ever saw?” his younger self said. “It's clear and bright and shiny. There’s nothin' like it.”  
**“Don't you go anywhere,”** Arthur said to his three-year-old son. **“Be the rock, Isaac. Your mama _needs_ you to be the rock!”**  
His younger self looked at his son’s face while Isaac gazed at the water. “You’re a good kid, you’ll be all right. Even without your pa.”  
From where he stood watching them, Arthur’s brows drew up as he hung his head and sighed.  
His younger self smirked wryly and slowly raised his fingers under Isaac’s arm. “Enough stern talk for one day,” he said as he dug his fingertips into his side.  
Isaac immediately lost it, giggling and cackling as he writhed, jolted, and danced, finally throwing himself over his father’s lap.  
As his giggling petered away and he caught his breath, Isaac turned onto his back and looked up at him. “I don’t need a daddy. I got you. You’re my best friend. Besides mommy,” he said, sitting up again.  
“You like mama better ‘an me?” he said in a high pitch, as if taking exception.  
Isaac grinned wide and shrugged his shoulders up tight, holding both little palms upturned. “When you’re not here, I like Mama better. When you’re here, I like you better,” he mumbled fast with a bubbling giggle.  
He laughed. “I guess I’ll take that.”  
“No, no! I like you both the same. Really!” Isaac’s eyes suddenly went wide, and he sat up straight, holding the top of his head. “Don’t tell mama! She’ll scobb my noggin!”  
“What?” Arthur wheezed a laugh. “What the hell’s that?”  
Isaac gasped and reached out both hands to cover Arthur’s mouth. “Don’t say that, Arthur! Don’t say that!” he giggled, shaking his head slowly. “Scobb—I’ll show you…” he said with a wry look. “It’s when you do…this!” he shouted, reaching up, knocking his hat off, and scraping the knuckles of his fist back and forth across the top of his head and messing his hair.  
“All right, all right, I get it,” Arthur chuckled amidst the sounds of Isaac’s tinkling laughter. “Hey, I got somethin' for ya. Somethin' sweet,” he said with a wink as he reached into his pocket.  
Isaac sat up straight. “What kind?! Sassafras, or horehound?”  
“What you think…?” he eyed him, the crinkling sound of the candy’s paper filling their ears.  
Isaac’s mouth slowly drew up in a knowing grin, and he looked up at him with a glimmer in his eye. “ _Sassafras!_ ”  
He smiled bright as he pulled the bag of hard candy out. “Sassafras, you got it.”  
“Gimme, gimme!” Isaac said, bouncing on his father’s thigh and reaching. “ _Wait_ ,” he stopped short, closing his eyes and holding up a flat hand. “Don’t give it to me yet. Let me show you the manners. Mama taught me the manners.”  
He watched as his sweet angel of a son looked up at him with one of the most authentic, sincere looks in his raindrop eyes he’d ever seen. There was no theater to it, not even the slightest hint of duplicity.  
“Arthur, could I have one please?”  
His heart swelled as he smiled wide. “Hey, you’re pretty damn—pretty darn good at that.” He handed him the sugar-dusted candy and popped one in his own mouth while Isaac cuddled up close. “You looked just like your mama when you did that. Just darn like her.”  
" **And she says you look like me,** **"** Arthur said from where he stood watching. As he looked at his younger self, he realized they’d both just had the same thought.  
He rubbed his hand gently up and down his son’s back as he looked up at the rays of sunlight breaking through the leaves of the trees. “Your mama is awful good, ain’t she? Awful good.” He felt Isaac nod against his chest.  
“Mm-hmm,” Isaac sang. “Like a princess,” he mumbled past the candy.  
He smirked. “Yeah, I guess that’s right. Like a princess.”  
“I think I’m gonna marry her.”  
“What?” he wheezed, leaning back and looking down at him. “You can’t, Isaac, you can’t.”  
“Why not?” he looked up.  
“Little boys can’t marry their mamas.”  
“Well, I love her!”  
“It’s a different kinda love,” he shook his head with a chuckle.  
“How do you know?”  
He chuffed. “It just is! You don’t know that kinda love yet, and I ain’t about to explain it to ya. Sons just can’t marry their mamas! It’s not allowed. She’d be flattered, but she’d tell you the same thing.”  
“Well…who’s gonna marry her then? She’s all alone. She needs help. I think I can only help so much. Sometimes I get things wrong and make it worse. And she needs someone to love her. She needs a prince in shining armor. She needs someone to love her!”  
He sighed, his eyes sagging as he rubbed the heel of his hand across his eye before raking his fingers back through his hair. “I know, kid. I know.”  
“I’m gonna find her a prince. You need to take your shaving stuff out and all your clothes, so I can get her a prince.”  
“ _Jesus_.” He looked down at him with a grimace. “She didn’t ever…say that to you, did she?”  
“No. It’s just an idea I just had.”  
“Well…Isaac,” he huffed. “You don’t want me to come round no more? You don’t wanna see me no more?”  
“ _Nooo_. That’s not what I meant.”  
“Well. It’s like you said. I’d have to move my stuff out, ‘cause he wouldn’t want me comin' round.”  
“Oh. Okay. That’s not a good idea after all.” He sighed and lied back against his chest again. “I don’t know what to do.”  
“You and me both,” he mumbled. “Hey,” he looked down again, though Isaac didn’t look up. “Why're you thinkin' about all this sh—stuff. Your daddy, and…your mama gettin' married. You’re three years old!”  
“Oll-most _four_ ,” he squinted up at him. “I told you. Everybody in town has daddies. Every mommy in town has a husband.”  
He grumbled. “I oughtta tell your mama not to take you into town no more.”  
“No!” he sat up. “I have friends there! I like it!”  
He sighed. “You _are_ almost four, ain'tchya? Birthday’s comin' up.”  
“Yup.”  
“What you want for your birthday?”  
“Mmm…nothing.”  
“Nothin’?!”  
“Nothing. I just want you there. No toys, okay?”  
“You might feel differently once you’ve got ‘em in your hands.”  
He scrunched his nose and tried not to smile. “No…more…toys! I’m a big boy.”  
“Already? You’re a big boy already?!” He quickly jolted to tickle him.  
“No…no toys!” he laughed. He finally sat up straight and took a breath. “Just come to me, okay? Just come to me on my birthday. I want no toys, just you and me and mama.” He smirked and cocked his head to the side. “And maybe pie. Maybe mama'll make me pie,” he laughed. “Just come! _Okaaaayy?_ ”  
“Well, I’ll…I’ll try, Isaac—”  
“No, no, no. You gotta promise!”  
“I can’t.” He tried not to grimace. “I can’t promise.”

In the same dream, Arthur was swept away to his son’s room. Although he shouldn’t have, he knew without being told that it was a few nights later, after he himself had left the ranch. It seemed to be almost like a memory he shouldn’t be able to remember, because he hadn’t been there.  
Eliza was sitting on the edge of the bed tucking Isaac in for the night. Arthur sat in a chair on the other side of the bed and watched the scene.  
“Ready to recite your memory verses for the week?” she asked softly.  
Isaac nodded.  
“Okay… What about First Corinthians thirteen, five?”  
He bit his lip and looked up. “Love…does not behave unseemly…seeks n-not her own, is not easily provoked…thinks no evil.”  
Her brows rose and she smiled bright, Arthur was sure it was at the fact that he was talking.  
“And what does it mean, baby?”  
“It means that love isn’t mean or rude,” he took a breath, “it doesn’t let you think about only yourself…it doesn’t get mad so easy, and…it doesn’t keep a tally of the wrong things you do.”  
“Very good, baby. And what about verse thirteen?”  
“Now abides…” he began, “faith, and hope, and love…” he said slowly and evenly, “and the greatest of these is love.” He looked at her with a smile. “That one’s my favorite.”  
She smiled in return. “And what’s that one mean?”  
“It means that faith and hope are real real good, but we should never ever stop loving, ‘cause love is the best one.”  
“So good. My smart boy,” she smiled even brighter as she finished tucking him in.  
“Mama?”  
“Yes, baby,” she said softly.  
Arthur watched him swallow, his tense little frown signaling something was weighing heavily on the shoulders of a three, ‘oll-most four’ year-old. Arthur looked Eliza’s way again and noted her concern. He knew she was hoping he would open up about it, thinking he already seemed a little more talkative today than usual.  
Isaac opened his mouth and hesitated, but finally spoke. “Did you find me in the trash when I was a baby?”  
_**“What?!”**_ Eliza and Arthur let out at the same moment.  
“ _No!_ Absolutely not!” Eliza said. “What on earth— Why would you think that, Isaac? Who told you that?”  
He fidgeted and mumbled. “One day when we were in town, at the store, I was sitting on the bench outside with my lolli— You know how Mr. Andrews gives me a little lolli sometimes? The circle kind I like with all the colors?”  
She nodded.  
“Well, I was sitting on the bench outside with my lolli, and you were still inside shopping, I think. And one of the big kids, Zechariah, he came over and told me that his parents told him I don’t have a daddy.” He started sniffing, and his voice was high and pinched. “And he said that, if that’s true, then he thinks that must mean you found me in the trash when I was a baby.”  
Arthur sighed and gritted his teeth. **“Show me this Zechariah. I ain’t ever hit a kid before, but there’s a first time for everything.”**  
“No, no, Isaac, _no_.” She sighed. “Come here.” She took him in her arms. “Children can be so cruel to each other sometimes. I don’t understand it.”  
“Not all of them,” he said. “Just some of the big kids. I have some friends. But…I was thinking maybe he wasn’t being mean if it was true.”  
“It’s _not_ true, Isaac. You’re very loved, and you always have been. You were never ever ever in the trash. Never ever!”  
“But I don’t have a daddy,” he looked up into her eyes and sniffed. “So where did I come from?”  
She swallowed. “You—” She sat him back on the bed next to her. “You came from here,” she said patting her belly. “In my tummy.”  
“Wha…?” he bunched his face up in confusion. “That’s crazy, Mama! That’s silly! Nobody can fit in there!”  
“You were much, much smaller,” she laughed. “Itty bitty. You’ve seen babies.”  
He nodded.  
“Well, you were even smaller than that. Everybody was once. Everybody was in their mama’s tummy once. And you grew,” she said, pulling out her hands to show how big her belly had gotten.  
His eyebrows shot up. “You got fat?”  
She chuckled. “Don't use that word for people, Isaac. But I guess you could sorta say that. My belly did. But it was both me and you together. Here. Like this.” She took the pillow and stuffed it under her blouse. “And you were like the pillow.”  
“Whoa…” he said softly with a dazed look, reaching out a hand and stroking the bloused pillow. “And then I came out!”  
“And then you came out,” she smiled. “And you were so tiny. I didn’t realize people could ever be so small. I held you like this,” she motioned with her two arms cradled together. “Your bottom fit in my palm. Or I’d hold you like this with your head in my hand, the rest of your body on my arm, and your little arms and legs hangin’ down. Your tiny little fingers were this big,” she pinched her fingers close together. “All of you was small. Makes sense, ‘cause you had to come out of me. You really were in here, Isaac,” she rubbed her faux belly.  
His eyes popped up to hers. “How did I get in there?”  
Her smile dropped. “Well, ah…” She removed the pillow and returned it to the bed. “Let’s just say your daddy put you there. Kinda. Well, both me and your daddy.”  
He looked down. “Arthur says I have a daddy. Says everyone does.”  
She nodded. “Arthur’s right. That’s how it happens for everyone. That’s why everyone has a daddy.”  
“But where’s mine then?” he mumbled forlornly.  
She sighed again. “Isaac…” She pulled him into her lap and stroked under his chin, like she had when he was just a toddler. “Your papa, he… Your papa struggles. Do you know that word? 'Struggle?'”  
He shook his head.  
“It means you hurt inside,” she put a hand to her chest, “and things are real hard for you. Like…things you don’t wanna do, you do them. And things you wanna do, you don’t do them. And sometimes you just don’t know what to do at all.”  
Arthur took a deep breath and hung his head. She really had understood him. Quite well, as it turned out.  
She sat Isaac on her knee and looked him in the eyes. “Your papa is a good man. Real good, in fact. But he does things sometimes…or, he has to do things, I don’t know…that aren’t right. So he struggles inside with evil. That’s another word I know you don’t know. It means bad. Real bad.”  
Isaac nodded slowly and gravely.  
“But we still love him, right?” she said.  
He nodded emphatically. “Right. I do love him. I love him even though I ain’t ever met him yet.”  
“' _Ain’t?_ '” she eyed him.  
He grinned and blushed as he shook his head. “I’ve never met him yet.”  
“Maybe you will someday. Maybe he’ll let you know him.” She slowly frowned. “He’s got a good heart. Though he doesn’t know it. I’ve told him many times. He was so easy to fall in love with. But not quite so easy to keep loving. People told me not to love him. He even told me himself not to love him.”  
“Why?”  
“Well, he…he left, Isaac,” her brows drew up. “And he keeps— Well, he…he’s not around. It’s not…very nice of a person to do. But he really believes he can’t be around. And maybe he truly can’t, I don’t know. I don’t know if all the worst that he thinks could happen, would happen if he was. I really don’t know,” she mumbled and shrugged. “But I do love him. And I always will.”  
Isaac came close again and sighed as he rested his cheek against her chest. “What’s he like, Mama?”  
“Well…” she whispered warmly, “he’s real big and tall. Like a human mountain.”  
“Wow…”  
“His hugs are like big bear hugs. Like this,” she said, suddenly scrunching him up tight to her as he laughed. “And his smile… It makes your heart go pitter-patter. I wish he’d show it more. Beautiful…that’s what he is.”  
“I thought only ladies were beautiful!” he looked up at her. “A man can be beautiful?”  
“A man can be beautiful,” she nodded. “Trust me. His eyes are bright and clear as jewels. I’m sure he coulda had his pick a’ the wide world. Sometimes, I…wonder how he ever made you with little ol’ me.”  
Arthur watched her swallow and try to tug up a smirk as she said it, sticking her finger in Isaac’s side, clearly hoping his cackles would wash away whatever she was feeling.  
**“Eliza…”** he moaned as he let his forehead fall into his hand and shook his head. **“God, Eliza.”**  
“What else?” Isaac smiled.  
“Solid muscle. Lean and brawny. Strong and tough and rugged. Quickest draw in the west.” She let her eyelids fall half-mast as she looked at him with a smirk. “He’s a real-life Wild West cowboy, you know.”  
“ _Really?!_ ” he immediately sat straight and looked at her with huge eyes.  
She nodded with a bright grin. “And he wears a wide-brimmed hat.” With the grin still on her lips, she took both her hands and slid them around her head like she had a hat on and was tipping the front brim over her eyes.  
His mouth was open in amazement, the corners pulling up even higher as he watched her. He suddenly stopped and sat stock still, his brows coming together as he cocked his head. “That sounds like Arthur.”  
She tried not to grin and lifted her chin with a tilt of her head. “It does, doesn’t it?” She watched his eyes flutter and move as the wheels turned in his head.  
He took a while, the cogs of his mind grinding and spinning together. “It can’t be Arthur,” he finally said. “Arthur don’t— _doesn’t_ struggle with evil. So it can’t be him.”  
Eliza swallowed.  
“But I sure wish it could be him. He’s my favorite person besides you, Mama. You’re both my favorite.”  
“Mmmm…” she smiled, brushing her nose softly back and forth across his.  
He looked up into her eyes. “I know you love my daddy, Mama, but don’t you like Arthur? If my daddy can’t come to us, you should marry Arthur and make him my daddy.”  
Her eyes sagged, and she frowned deeply. “I wish I could marry Arthur, dear. Oh, how I wish I could. But you know Arthur has to go away for a long time over and over again. How could I be married to someone who isn’t ever there?”  
Isaac slowly frowned and hung his head.  
“‘Sides,” she dipped her chin, “I think Arthur thinks that if he ever did marry, it should be to somebody prettier than me.”  
Isaac’s head popped up at her, and he smiled. “Noooo!”  
She looked up at the ceiling and tried for a playful tone and grin. “Don’t you think Arthur should marry somebody prettier…”  
“No!” Isaac giggled.  
“And funnier…”  
“No.” He pushed her in the arm a little.  
“And smarter…”  
“ _No!_ ” He suddenly burst into tears and sobbed, raising his little fists to his eyes. “Don’t _say that!_ Don’t say that, Mama!”  
“Oh, Isaac!” she immediately caught her breath and frowned. “I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have said that to you. It wasn’t fair of me. Don’t cry for me, baby. Please don’t cry!”  
“Don’t say that! I don’t like that. Don’t say that, Mama,” he whined. “You’re my favorite person. You’re my person.”  
She quickly took him into her arms and held him to her shoulder, bringing a hand to the back of his head and rocking gently. “You got such a big heart, Isaac. Such a big heart. Always have. You know, when you were in my tummy I prayed God would give you a big, tender heart. And that’s what he did.”  
She swallowed and shook her head, her chin trembling. “Don’t worry about what I said, baby. The truth is, my love is just…it’s not enough for Arthur. It’s not enough.”  
He sniffed as he pulled back and looked down, grumbling and whining, frowning sorely. “I don’t know what to do. You need somebody to love you, Mama.”  
Her brows drew up, but she slowly smiled. “I got you, baby,” she touched a finger to his nose. “I got you to love me.”  
She tucked her finger under his chin and brought his head up so his round doe eyes met hers. She sniffed and swallowed. “Your daddy left you for me so you would love me.” She brought her thumb up and stroked his cheek back and forth. “You ain’t gonna let him down, are you?”  
With a growing wry smile, he scrunched up his nose and brought a finger up beside his face to point at her.  
“' _Ain’t!_ '” she threw up her other hand and let it drop.  
He laughed and threw his little arms around her. “‘Course I love you, Mama.”  
She brought a hand to his back and closed her eyes as his arms tightened snugly around her neck. “Mmm…I love you so much, Isaac.” As he drew back, she asked, “You know how much I love you, don’t you, baby?”  
He immediately scrunched up his shoulders and smiled a tight little smile, shaking his head.  
“See that bright moon?” she pointed through the window. “All the way up to it, around it, and back down again.”  
He giggled and lied down against the pillow. “That’s a lot of love.”  
“That’s right. That’s a lot of love,” she smiled as she tucked him back into his blankets, kissing him on the forehead. “Sweet dreams, my sweet baby.”  
Arthur watched her head for the door, turning out the lamp light on her way. But when she reached the threshold, she paused in the darkness and brought a hand to her mouth. Arthur heard her take in a shaky breath and begin to quietly cry, and he watched her turn back and look at Isaac where he lay.  
She walked back to the bed and bent to whisper to him. “Is it okay if I sleep in here with you tonight, baby? Would you let mommy sleep in bed with you?”  
He groggily nodded and scooted over, lifting the covers with one of his little arms.  
Arthur hung his head but kept his eyes on her as she slowly crawled in, keeping her sobs back. She brushed a hand through the goldenrod hair at his forehead and watched him drift off to sleep.  
“It hurts,” she sniffed after a while had passed. “The love is too big for my heart, baby,” she whispered ever so quietly, her voice breaking. Her eyes grew when a little whisper arose through the dark:  
“Mama…” He reached out a small hand and touched her face. “No love could be too big for your heart.”  
Arthur swallowed hard past the painful lump in his throat. He got up and walked straight out of the house onto the front porch. He turned and tried to give the railing boards a good solid kick, but his foot went right through it. He finally balled up his fist, bent at the waist, and screamed into the darkness of night.  
When he opened his eyes to see a similar darkness around him and heard a ragged shout coming through his scratchy throat, he had to remind himself that he was awake now, and that the other had been the dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Readers who have carried over from "Disaster Road" and/or "Only Fools Hold onto Hope,"
> 
> Thank you and I'm so excited you're here! This work has morphed a few times, but I'm really looking forward to it. In many portions, it's more on the surreal side than anything I've done before. But we're on this ride together. I'll do my best to make everything clear, but if at any time there's something you have a question about, please please don't hesitate to ask.
> 
> Love to you all!  
> \- Rosie


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Go to your family. Get the hell outta here and be a goddamn man.”
> 
> \- Arthur

a couple years later

As Arthur stood in the darkness at the edge of camp, he felt the chill of the double barrel and its weight in his hands. He kept himself attune and alert, taking in all the sounds around him: the crunch of dirt beneath his boots as he shifted his weight, the symphony of crickets and hoots of owls, the bay of coyotes in the distance.  
He was keenly aware that each time he took this duty over the past year, he’d been guarding more than usual. A baby in camp was plenty reason to keep himself sharp. No matter whose he was.  
And he knew Jack wasn’t his. When she’d first shared the news with Susan, who had then told the rest of them, it had been several months since he’d lain with Abigail the one time. And a handful of months since she’d managed to take up fairly exclusively with Marston, everyone knew.  
_Marston_. Without even realizing it, he gritted his teeth at his name in his head. And he shook the thought away.  
The point was, for some reason he felt some kind of draw to the two of them, woman and child, some kind of responsibility or kinship. He was the kid’s uncle, after all. Some kind of comradery. They weren’t the only ones who’d been left behind.  
And since they didn’t know if the boy's absent father would ever return or if he was even alive, Arthur had willingly stepped in and picked up the torch of caring for them. Though he’d been sheepish about it at first, it had been almost natural. She’d needed someone to rely on, depend on for things. Things beyond herself, in such circumstances. And though no one knew it but himself, Dutch, and Hosea, he wasn’t a stranger to caring for a woman and infant.  
Every time he’d held Jack to his chest and smelled his sweet, earthy newborn scent. Every time he’d seen the heavy look of fatigue mingled with love for her son in her eyes. He'd had to swallow down a lot of pain and remorse, like he did every day. But even more so with it thrust up into his face like that. And it was collecting somewhere in his gut. Another cruel strike of fate.  
He couldn’t come to grips with what Marston had done to them. Couldn’t understand it, even with his own past. There were no excuses, no explanations. What he wouldn’t give to have what he had. And he hated him for it. For his having it. Not just for what he’d done.  
And after everything he himself had done for him. Would do for him. It was simply too much.  
Over the last year, he and Abigail had become something like friends. A bond forged through being bereft by choice. Both left by someone who was supposed to be family.  
At the thought, his insides went rigid, and he had to dig into his pocket for a cigarette. Because maybe he deserved it. Maybe he was only just now getting a small taste of what he’d done to Eliza and Isaac.  
He left the cigarette between his lips and quickly struck a match, relishing the brief introduction of the new sound around him before lighting it, shaking the match, and tossing it away.  
He’d begun to wonder recently if even with their great age difference he should’ve married Abigail. Especially after having had her. Before she’d nabbed Marston. He himself would’ve been a poor stand-in for a good man, but at least he would’ve kept her away from him. Kept all this from happening. And it would’ve been maybe his last chance at it. Marriage. Children.  
The thing was, there was no replacing the marriage he longed for. The child he missed.  
He was suddenly filled with that familiar heavy, heavy feeling in his chest, his throat, his eyes. And he almost wished he had something better than a cigarette on him, if not for the fact that he was on duty.  
Just then he felt, more than heard, something off in the brush and trees before him. No sooner had he thought it, than he made ready, his shotgun aimed in its direction.  
“One more move, and I paint that tree with your guts.”  
The rustling ceased and was replaced by an uneasy stillness.  
“‘Course. ‘Course it’s you. Just had to be you standin’ guard.”  
The orange ember from Arthur’s cigarette was the only source of light between them, but he didn’t need to squint to know who it was. “Marston.”  
It was a name that cut through his throat like a jagged blade.  
All John could see was the sneer on his mouth by the light of his cigarette. He took a step forward, and Arthur held his gun fast on him.  
“Quit…quit playin’ around, Arthur,” he said, making a show of cupping his hands and breathing into them, hoping he could see the gesture through the darkness. “It’s cold out tonight.”  
“You must be _jokin_ ’.”  
He’d bit it out, and the sound of it was all John needed to be sure of which direction this would go. He sighed. “Look, I… I done wrong. I see that now.”  
“You see nothin’,” he growled. “You ain’t seen your little one shiver in the arms of his mama, in your own arms. Ain’t seen her eyes when she thinks about havin’ to raise him without his daddy. Ain’t struggled to get ‘em fed. Heard him cry. Seen him smile. Call her name and take his first steps.”  
“And I feel awful about all that—”  
“Awful ain’t enough.”  
John’s eyes were adjusting, and he could only guess Arthur’s were too. He could make out more of the familiar face before him—scars, furrows, fury and all.  
“You got no idea what I’ve given for this gang,” Arthur forced out through gritted teeth. “For this family. No idea.”  
At that, John's brows came together, and he peered at him.  
“I been here the whole time. Never left. Not once. Why should you get to leave with no consequences. What I given up means nothin’ if you don’t get any.”  
John couldn’t quite put the pieces together, but this was more of Arthur’s hand than he’d ever revealed at one time. He usually kept his thoughts quite close to the vest.  
“For all we knew, you could be dead, Marston. But here you stand, provin’ you chose it,” he drawled. “You didn’t just turn your back on your woman and kid, naw.”  
His brow was in a harder line than John had ever seen it.  
“You turned your back on all of us.” Arthur took another step, further blocking his way. “I might be damned already, but I’ll bet good, filthy, earthly money on it ‘fore I see you welcomed back.”  
They stood there a few more seconds. The men, and the gun.  
John’s eyes darting from the shotgun to the look in Arthur’s. His head telling the organ in his chest to stop thumping so hard, so loud. That Arthur wouldn’t. Couldn’t.  
“Outta the way, Arthur,” he finally brushed past him, making sure to line his tone with dismissiveness. “I had about enough a’ this. Rather talk to Dutch himself.” And he knew that would add an extra inch to the blade between them.  
He heard Arthur’s footsteps behind him as he headed straight for Dutch’s tent. But he almost jumped when he looked up from his feet to see the man was already standing there.  
“John! That you?” he said.  
He nodded, and tried to make his voice bolder than he felt. “It’s me, Dutch.”  
Dutch started to grin, then looked around and took a couple staggered, hurried steps. “Wake everybody up. I want everyone to see this,” he said quietly. He ran to Abigail's tent and woke her, then ran to Hosea’s and had him wake everyone else. By the time the rest of the gang was standing and groggily looking on, Dutch was smiling wide.  
“Look at him! Healthy as a bull,” he said. After a long pause, he added, “We were worried about you, John.”  
John cleared his throat. “I’m real…real sorry…for what I done, Dutch. I know it was wrong. I’m here to make it right.”  
“You already have, son,” Dutch rested a hand on his shoulder. “You already have. My prodigal son,” he lifted an arm and turned to the group, “has returned!” The words were theatrical, his airy voice full of emotion. He turned back to John and patted his shoulder. “Let’s get you fed and warm and…back into the arms of your woman and child.”  
As Dutch walked off to get him something to eat, John caught sight of Arthur where he stood at the edge of the dwindling group. His eyes were steely and cold, his jaw clenched and set on a razor edge.  
When it was finally just the two of them standing there, the older by a decade turned and started to walk off towards his tent.  
“Arthur,” John called, causing him to stop, his back still turned. He swallowed, grateful he couldn’t see the lump in his throat bob. “I’m your brother.”  
He watched Arthur’s chin turn to the side at the words before he continued on his way.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “It’ll be the usual sort of desperados—sick farmers, pregnant maids…”
> 
> \- Arthur’s journal

Arthur gripped the reins, his stomach roiling as he looked at the humble little cottage and thought on what he was about to do. What he had to do.  
He knew it was all for the gang, his family. For Hosea. For Dutch. But still, he often wondered at thirty-four years of age, how he’d landed here. How his own life had betrayed him, giving him the worst job he could think of. The one he deserved, yet the one that in turn made him a worse, more blackened soul each time.  
He did feel covered in soot. He always hated this. Every part of it. From looking at Strauss’s grimy, weasely little face to the feeling of flesh bruising beneath his knuckles, to the sound of the coins jingling in his own pocket. More than anything, he hated that it got easier each time. He was more than a brute collector. He knew well enough that for many who looked back at him in terror, he might as well be the reaper come knocking.  
Simple folk struggling to get by. Believing they can. And finally, it was a woman. He could feel the bile threatening its way up the back of his throat. He had no intentions of hitting a woman. None whatsoever. None at all. But what frightened him was the reality that sometimes, whatever intentions he had beforehand went out the window halfway through.  
Yet again, he wondered if his reflection would’ve shifted a little by the end of the day.  
As he surveyed the small property and eyed the shadow behind the white sheet hanging on the laundry line, he swallowed and dismounted Boadicea. He pushed past the little gate and walked up to the laundry swaying in the wind, clearing his throat once he got there.  
“You Bethany Hammond?”  
A hand reached for the edge of the sheet and pulled it back, and their eyes grew wide at the same time.  
_Pregnant_. Very. And so young. Strauss hadn’t told him. Hadn’t even hinted.  
“Y-yes?”  
Only at the sound of her timid voice did he remember what the sight of him must mean to her, be doing to her, and he tried to stiffen.  
“I… You, uh…” He cleared his throat again, and he found his body wouldn’t obey. He just couldn’t go down the usual brutish road. “I’m sorry to disturb you, ma’am…” arose in his quiet, unimposing tone. And only after he heard it did he realize how it sounded. He hadn’t meant to be quite so sheepish. “You borrowed some money from a Mr. Strauss? He’s my business partner.” He tipped his head to the side. “Sent me to collect.”  
“Oh,” she swallowed as her hand went to her belly.  
He watched her turn, her other hand wandering as she waddled and teetered a little.  
“Here, here,” he grabbed the big thatched basket nearby and dumped what was in it, sighing as fleeting remorse and annoyance at himself stomped though his head when he saw the folded linens and clothes in the soil and mud. He overturned the basket and had her sit on it. “Have you a seat there.”  
He eyed her as she sat atop it and let out a breath, the wicker creaking a bit beneath the weight of two. She had light auburn hair, tied up in a bun with bits dangling in her face. She couldn’t be a day over twenty. Maybe as young as eighteen. And she wore a pale green sun frock, the waist let out to accommodate the baby in her belly.  
She wiped the back of her wrist against her forehead as she looked forward. “I planned to have it for you. Really, I did. Except that…” she began. Her eyes darted up to him. “I been sweepin’ for places, you see. The grocer, the millinery, the tailor. Even the gunsmith!”  
He nodded. He wrangled his thoughts from straying to how her back must ache to sweep in her condition.  
“Well, I can sew. And I been tellin’ the tailor I could work for him. While I was there sweepin’, I’d tell him, you know. Thought I’d advertise my skills a bit. Well, finally he let me step in and help with the fabrics. Not makin’ any garments, but I was mendin’ tears and helpin’ with seams an’ things. And then when it came time for wages, he’d only ever pay me for sweepin’.” Her brows had drawn, her voice rising in disbelief and frustration.  
He surprised himself at how quickly his hackles rose, on behalf of someone he didn’t even know, a complete stranger.   
“I…tried to believe the best of him,” she looked down. “Thought it was a miscalculation. But when I asked him about it…” she sniffed, her voice growing quiet, “he said he wouldn’t pay more than pennies to a slut. That I’d proved it’s all I’m worth before I ever stepped through his door.”  
He clenched his teeth tight and looked away.  
“Now I’m too big and uncomfortable to manage any work. Fit to burstin’. So you see…” she sniffed again, “I really did mean to have it for you. I’m sure you hear that all the time. But I really did. And I would’ve.”  
He stood there a few moments longer, but he already knew what he had to do.  
He let out a sigh as he looked at her. “Tailor, you said?”  
She nodded.  
“In town there?”  
This time, he nodded with her.  
“All right.” He turned and walked to Bo. “Be back in a bit.”

And he was. The maggot had taken no more than a solid talking to and a swift lift off the floor by the collar.  
As Arthur rode back up to her little gate, he didn’t see her in the cottage’s front yard. He went into his pocket and looked down at the handful of coins. It was too little, the weight of it too light in his hand. So without much thought, he went into his satchel for a stack of bills before dismounting.  
He went through the gate and tentatively walked around to the back of the house when he heard sniffling and crying.  
She was sitting on a bench reclining back against the house. She started a little when she saw him and quickly wiped at her cheeks. “Didn’t think you’d be back so soon.”  
He reached out and handed her the wad of bills and coins, only then noticing how filthy the little crevices in the joints of his fingers were compared to hers. His nails were caked underneath with dirt, his knuckles scuffed and chapped, as they were most days. He quickly pulled his hand away, but her movements were already slow and timid.  
She gazed up at him warily. “You didn’t…hurt him, did you?”  
“Naw,” he said. “Unless his ego bruises. Gave him a few choice words. Ought not treat a lady that way.”  
“Oh,” she sniffed. “That’s mighty sweet a' you. But it…it’s true, what he said. No ring on my finger, see.”  
He nodded as she looked down and fidgeted. “I did see that. Makes no difference.”  
“Well, this is…” she said, her voice rising in pitch as she inspected the cash, “this is more than I made. I’m sure of it.”  
“Guess he felt poorly about what he did then.”  
Her brows came together as she eyed him. “I swept three months for that man. And then he cheated me. He ain’t bent towards charity.” After a few more moments, “You did hurt him…didn’t you?”  
He swallowed as he grabbed his gun belt and looked away. When he chanced a glance back from the side of his eyes, he saw her begin to count the coins in her palm.  
“Here,” she said holding them out. “What I owe.”  
“Oh, naw,” he held up a hand, “don’t worry about it. Consider it over an’ done with.”  
She looked up at him and let her shoulders go slack. “You’ve treated me with more kindness than anybody. Mister…”  
“Morgan.”  
“Mr. Morgan.” A little smile tinged the corner of her mouth as she said it, and she rubbed her big belly. “Hm. It’s a nice name. Fits a boy or a girl, you know.”  
He smirked and gave his chin a single jab to the side. “Never thought much of it.”  
As she looked out at the rolling hills of tall green grass swaying in the wind, the same breeze came and caught her stray hair. “No, you have shown me more kindness than anybody. Even my baby’s father…” she whispered with a quiet sniff and briefly glanced at him. “He’s good though, you know. Really.”  
He tried to nod, but the effort made the gesture slow and syrupy. “I’m sure you think so.”  
A whimper escaped her throat at his words.  
He dipped his head and peered at her from beneath the brim of his hat, though she kept her eyes out at the hills. “I take it…he ain’t around?”  
Another whimper, and she shook her head and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. He could see a rim of tears had collected at the base of her eyes as she turned and looked into his. “He ain’t comin’ back…” she shook her head, “is he?”  
When he hesitated, she burst into tears, causing him to go stiff with panic. For the first time he wondered why he was still here. As her nose and eyes grew pink, he frantically searched his satchel for a handkerchief.  
When he handed it to her, her crying rose in volume. “See? You are kind.”  
“Jesus…” he muttered under his breath. He surprised himself even further when he hitched a tentative step forward and sat beside her on the other end of the bench. He was relieved when her breathing calmed and began to level out as he did it.  
“I love him,” she finally sighed. “And I was so excited when we got pregnant. Now all I am is terrified.” She lifted the hankie and let her hand drop again to her lap. “What was I thinkin’? I don’t know how to be a mama. What if I’m horrible at it? What if my baby wishes she had a different one?”  
After a few moments, he nodded and cleared his throat, squinting in the sunlight as he kept his eyes forward.  
“From what I’ve seen…it all comes to ya when you hold that little one in your arms.” He felt a smile begin to prick at him as he huffed a little chuckle through his nose. “Might even feel you didn’t quite know what love was, before.”  
She dabbed under her eyes and looked over at him. “Do you have children, Mr. Morgan?”  
He looked away and clenched his jaw as he shook his head, slowly at first, then more confidently.  
“I was hopin’ you could give me some advice,” she tried to chuckle.  
“Hold ‘em to you,” he said, his voice quiet. “Don’t let go. Not for nothin’.” He looked back at her beside him. “‘Cause ain’t nothin’ worth it.” When he was sure he had her eyes, he added again, “Nothin'.”  
When he noticed her swallow, he dipped his chin. “All these big things you’re feelin’ right now…” he squinted an eye, “it’s just a lot a’ change. You seem a good kid. You won’t have any problems with that bit, what you said. Just love ‘em, like they oughta be loved.”  
He watched her look down at her belly. “You got any family? Friends? Folk to look out for you when it comes time for the babe?”  
She nodded. “A couple people.”  
“Good. You’ll be all right.”  
She looked up at him with a sniff and started to smile. “I oughta borrow from your friend more often.”  
“No, no,” he wheezed a chuckle, a smile cracking across his face. “Don’t make a habit a' that neither.”  
A chuffed little laugh came out from under the roof of her mouth.  
“My only other bit of advice,” he added in a mumble.  
They sat there looking into each other’s eyes for a couple more moments.  
“You’d make a wonderful father. It’s only been a couple minutes. My tears haven’t even dried. And I hardly remember crying.” She looked down and fiddled with the handkerchief. “Your voice, it’s…almost like a lullaby.”  
“Christ,” his smirk went wobbly, and he brought his hand up to furiously rub the back of his neck. “Ain’t ever heard nothin’ like that last part from anybody.”  
“But someone’s told you you’d be a good father?” Her voice was quiet, calling him to stillness.  
“One someone,” he finally relinquished.  
“Add me to the list. You would.” She suddenly gasped and looked down at her belly, rubbing a specific spot.  
He panicked and went rigid when she quickly grabbed his hand and held it there under hers. A fluttering bump beneath her skin sent chills up and down his back.  
“Feel that?” her eyes popped up at him with a breathless smile. “Ain’t nothin’ like it. Huh?” She gazed back down with a rosy look in her eyes. “Oh, baby… Thank you for remindin’ me. I love you already.”  
He swallowed hard, and his breathing was unsteady. “I once…h-had a…” It was lower than a whisper, more of a thing that left him involuntarily, and he hoped she hadn’t heard. When he felt her turn to look at his face, a boulder lodged itself painfully in his throat. It was all too much—the reminder that he’d missed his chance to do this with his own.  
As he slowly withdrew his hand, he was reminded too that he never should have been surprised when they were taken from him, those whom he hadn’t held onto. “I…best get goin’.”  
He stood and gave a single nod, the brim of his black hat casting a shadow over his eyes. “All the best to you, miss. To you both.”  
“And to you. M-mister Morgan…” She watched him walk away. And the knowledge settled over her that she would not be seeing him again.  
As Arthur rounded the house, walked through the little gate and mounted Bo, he was flooded with memories of that one someone. And all it left him with was a flimsy, hollow hope. That wherever she was, she was proud of what he’d just done.


	5. Chapter 5

“Besame, besame mucho  
_Kiss me, kiss me so much_  
Como si fuera ésta noche  
_Like tonight is_  
La última vez  
_The last time_

Besame, besame mucho  
_Kiss me, kiss me so much_  
Que tengo miedo a perderte  
_I’m afraid of losing you_  
Perderte después  
_Lose you later_

Quiero tenerte muy cerca  
_I want you very close_  
Tenerte a mi lado  
_Have you by my side_  
Verte junto a mi  
_See you next to me_  
Piensa que tal vez mañana  
_Think that maybe tomorrow_  
Yo ya estaré lejos,  
_I’ll be far away_  
Muy lejos de ti.”  
_Far away from you_

\- Consuelo Velazquez, “Besame Mucho”  
(Cantina music)  
<https://youtu.be/raOZFyB8bSk>

  
Months Before Blackwater

When one of their heist jobs took the gang very near the Nuevo Paraíso border, Dutch, Hosea, Arthur, Javier, and Charles strolled into a local cantina one night. Their steps slowed even further when the rich, warm sounds of maracas, smooth guitar, drums, and velvety voices met them inside.  
“Javier can’t step foot inside Nuevo Paraíso. So here we are,” Dutch said.  
“Remember, we need to stay sharp for tomorrow,” Hosea said. “No funny business.”  
“You’re right, Hosea,” Dutch nodded. “Just a little rest and relaxation before the real fun starts. Besides. I don’t think there’s any real worry of that,” he said, the timbre of his tone dipping as he looked over at Arthur. “Arthur doesn’t seem much in the mood for funny business tonight.”  
Arthur let the still sizzling butt of his cigarette hang loosely from his mouth and lowered his head, the brim of his hat covering his eyes for a moment.  
“Have a seat, all of you. Take a load off,” Dutch said to the men, motioning to a few chairs at a table. “After all, we’re in a place we’ve never been.”  
“ _You’ve_ never been,” Javier quietly corrected him.  
“Right.”  
As they sat, Dutch ordered drinks, and they noticed a young woman dancing lithely to the music in the center of the room. As she flitted about the floor in a tight gown with sleeves that showed off her dark olive shoulders and a silk scarf in her hands, her brown hair flew loosely behind her.  
Javier’s and Charles’s eyes were glued.  
“Just a little…rest and relaxation…” Dutch said hazily. “And if the opportunity for recreation presents itself…”  
“She’s a dancer, not a whore,” Javier quipped. “Pero madre de dios, what I wouldn’t give…” he mumbled. “Look at her,” he nudged Charles, who didn’t move other than nodding. “What a woman.”  
As Arthur reached into his pocket for another cigarette, he felt the coolness of silk run across the back of his neck and looked up to see the girl smiling at him, her amber eyes lingering on his a moment before she pulled the scarf away and returned to dancing.  
“ _Hijo de puta_ ,” Javier bit out.  
“Shit,” Charles whispered.  
“Jesus,” Dutch mumbled.  
“Please tell me you’re not gonna let that go to waste, Arthur,” Javier said, leaning forward in his seat to look over Dutch at him.  
Arthur remained silent but kept his eyes on the girl as he placed the cigarette between his lips and lit it, taking a few puffs.

The next morning Arthur was buttoning his shirt as he stood at the mirror of the vanity in one of the rooms above the cantina. He glanced at the reflection of the girl as she lay sleeping in bed. He looked back at the reflection of his buttons.  
Again, he regretted the night before, for what seemed the tenth time that morning. Nothing could bring back what he’d lost; that he knew well. No one could be a woman who had gone out of the world.  
The reality of it—he was heavy with it.  
His eyes went back to the girl’s reflection as she awoke and rustled, slowly sitting up blinking in the morning sunlight.  
And there she was: the image flashed before him of young Eliza’s reflection as she sat up in bed and pulled her bodice closed that very first morning, when he’d left her—only the first time—over a decade ago.  
He hadn’t said a single word to her before walking out. He truly had used her and discarded her. He’d never known, really known, how treasured she should’ve been.  
He shut his eyes tight as his chest flooded with pain. But that didn’t keep the images from coming in, rushing at him. Each memory as important as the last.  
Her vibrant laugh.  
Her deep, pale green eyes looking back at him as she floated carefree and light in the dark water of the pond. The stars shining bright in her eyes as she gazed up at them.  
The feeling of her arm draped across his chest, quiet and content as they lied there together with nothing between them. Stroking her silken hair back from her ear, from her neck. The smooth skin of her shoulder in the still, pale moonlight. Feeling her breathe beside him. The kisses she gave him, so freely. Looking up at him with adoring, tear-stained eyes.  
Those same eyes looking back at him with a soft smile from the next pillow.  
The sunlight glinting across her face as she walked through the field of flowers with her outstretched hand gently grazing the tops of them. Her contented smile as she looked down, her lashes kissing her own cheeks and her wisps of blonde hair flying about face.  
Her heavenly lilting voice, signaling everything would be okay, as she sang Isaac to sleep on her lap. And her soft grin as she looked up and noticed he was watching them.  
How trusting, how delicate. How very endangered her heart had been in his hands.  
And not far away, there was Isaac in her arms. His lips squished unnaturally as he dozed off.  
Again, the memories yanked him backwards. Just a couple months old, sleeping in his crib. He could hear Eliza’s whisper as they leaned over the side: “Look,” with a smile and a whisper, she’d pointed out the quick, harried motion his lips and chin were making in his sleep, “he’s dreaming about eating.”  
The pure ecstasy of giving a ten-month-old a bath before bedtime. He remembered thinking there might actually be nothing sweeter in the world than a wet baby, his soft rolls still warm and slippery from his bath, his beautiful lashes splayed out in clumps that radiated from his dewdrop doe eyes, somehow filled with both wonder and rest at the same time.  
Those curious eyes as he pet the tiny chirping chick.  
His joyous, carefree cackle as his mother tickled him on the river banks.  
The pudgy little arms and fingers he'd lifted up to him, asking him to carry him.  
His awe-inspired gasp as he lifted the pup he’d gotten him out of its box.  
His blue-green eyes as he stood beside him at the creek with fishing pole in hand, looking up at him with an all-too-wise smirk.  
The bulbous tears filling those same eyes as he hugged him goodbye for what neither of them had known would be the last time.  
His son. His own. _His_.  
“Me vas a dejar como todos los demás, ¿verdad?” [You’re going to leave me like all the others, right?] he heard the girl say and looked up to see her forlorn expression in the mirror as she held the sheet up over her chest.  
“¿Por qué ninguno de ustedes puede aprender a valorar a una mujer?” [Why can’t a single one of you learn to value a woman?] he heard as he lifted his suspenders and slipped them over his shoulders.  
“Lo habría sabido mejor si no hubiera sido por tus ojos,” [I would have known better if it hadn’t been for your eyes.] she mumbled quietly, watching him as he turned and finally came to sit on the edge of the bed and look at her with hat in hand.  
“You don’t want me,” he said. “Trust me.” When he saw her amber-brown eyes begin filling with tears, he swallowed and lifted a hand, brushing a finger to her cheek. “I really am sorry.” He looked down and pressed his hat on his head, standing before another bout of memories overtook him.  
He started towards the door and stopped, the dresser top catching his eye. In the matter of moments, he wrestled back and forth several times with the thought of leaving money, whether it would hurt her or help her.  
Finally going into his satchel, he tried to quickly calculate how much he could spare. It wasn’t long before he inwardly cursed himself—it was all what he could spare.  
He took the wad of bills out and placed it on the counter, immediately following it with an upturn of his satchel to dump it of coins. As they bounced and sprang across the counter, he jolted to corral them, sliding them into a neat pile as he looked back at her.  
“It ain’t for…what happened. It’s just ‘cause I wanna help…y-you understand?”  
Her eyes weren’t registering a word.  
“No…” he sighed, “you don’t.”  
He watched her look down at the cash, cover her mouth, and turn her face in mortification.  
He swallowed painfully and quickly stepped through the door.  
As he took the stairwell steps by two and struck a match with his thumbnail, he could hear the distant swell of music. And as he cupped his hand and lit his cigarette, taking big, quick steps across the floor and through the cantina, the band continued to play in its silky, sultry tones as if his heartache didn’t exist. Or as if it were known to the world.

  
“Sevilla tuvo que ser,  
_It had to be Seville,_  
con su lunita plateada,  
_with its silvery moon,_  
testigo de nuestro amor,  
_the witness of our love,_  
bajo la noche callada.  
_under the quiet night._  
  
Y nos quisimos tú y yo,  
_And we loved each other so,_  
con un amor sin pecado,  
_with a pure, sinless love,_  
pero el destino ha querido  
_but destiny has decided_  
que vivamos separados.  
_to keep you and me apart._

Ya todo aquello pasó,  
_All that has already passed,_  
todo quedó en el olvido,  
_all of it has been forgotten,_  
nuestras promesas de amores  
_our promises of love_  
en el aire se han perdido.  
_have vanished in the air._

Están clavadas dos cruces  
_Two crosses are stuck_  
en el monte del olvido,  
_in the mountain of oblivion_  
por dos amores que han muerto  
_for two loves that have died_  
sin haberse comprendido.”  
_without having understood._

\- Carmelo Larrea, “Dos Cruces”  
(Cantina music)  
<https://youtu.be/BTTrPOUz84c>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A heads up that the next chapter will be intensely difficult and painful. (Not that I haven't with a lot of this, but) I cried when I wrote it. 💔
> 
> Love to all,  
> Rosie 💙


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "You got sad eyes, mister. Like you seen sad things."  
> 
> 
> \- Mickey

As Arthur slept one night, he was once again met by dreams of Isaac and Eliza.  
This time he was swept into their cabin, back into the master bedroom—a room that had held many intimate moments, both sweet and painful.  
He could see everything: Eliza's delicate doilies on the dresser tops, the window where the light would filter in. But something was wrong, off-kilter. He noticed the lamp smashed on the floor, the drawers open and ajar. Things and clothes flung about the place.  
“Get your hands off me!” came a scream behind him in Eliza's voice.  
“Mm—hot damn. We oughta take a peek at little prairie flowers more often. She’s somethin’ else. Think we got time to have us a little fun with miss blondie here?”  
“No! Just get the job done, and let’s git outta here!”  
“Take it!” Eliza yelled. “It’s all I got, I swear. Just leave us alone! Please!”  
_**No, no,**_ Arthur thought as he hung his head.   
“We won’t tell a soul you were here! I swear it! I swear!”  
**_Not this,_** he begged inwardly as he began to turn. _**Please don’t show me this.**_  
“Don’t you touch him! Leave him alone!” he heard Eliza scream.  
And just like that he saw them: Isaac and Eliza crouched on the floor with expressions of terror on their faces and two inky, shadowy figures with their guns aimed low. When he turned to see them, they resumed movement from having been frozen, as if they’d waited for him.  
“Take me,” Eliza cried out, her eyes riddled with panic when she saw no other way. “He’s just a six-year-old little boy! T-take me and leave him,” she stammered, pressing a frenzied hand to her chest. “If you do, he’ll be okay. His daddy’ll come for him. He will.”  
Her face started to crumple as she sniffed and sobbed. “He’ll be terrified out of his wits to parent alone, and he might not ever even cry for me. But he’ll make it work; he’ll take good care of him. He’ll be a good papa. I know it, I know he will. So, you see,” she swallowed, “if you shoot me and leave him, he’ll be all right.”  
The man with his gun aimed at Isaac turned his face to her for a moment.  
“You’re kinda missin' the point, blondie,” he said with a nasty grin before turning back to Isaac.  
Bile rose in Arthur’s throat. He spun to look at the drawer where he’d left the gun for Eliza—it was open and empty. He looked back in their direction. The man had two guns—Arthur’s own was the one he had upright and aimed. At Isaac.  
Arthur tried to move but couldn’t. He looked down at his hands. He was no more than a mist here.  
Eliza’s blood-curdling scream pierced every ear as she reached her arms out towards their son. She frenetically scrambled when she saw the man lift the weapon and watched his thumb rise to cock it.  
_“ARTHUR!”_ she screamed. And midway through her scream, the two men froze.  
Arthur watched as she gasped and caught her breath, an expression of confusion flitting across her face when she looked around but the two men didn’t move.  
She tried to lunge forward but was stuck. She pulled at her gown and scratched at the floor around her knees, clawing frantically to be released, but it was no use. She was glued solid to the floor. She looked up. So was Isaac.  
Arthur could hear her thoughts aloud as she looked at their son, her brows knitting tight together in sorrow.  
_Oh, please, baby, talk to me. Please._  
She locked eyes with him and took a breath. “Arthur is your father, Isaac,” she said with a swallow and a solemn nod. “Arthur is.”  
Arthur watched as Isaac’s eyes filled unbearably full with glistening tears.  
“Oh, baby. I’m so, so sorry we never told you,” she sobbed. “It was wrong of us. We thought it would hurt you less. But the real truth is, he didn’t want you to turn out like him.”  
“But I… But…why? What’s so wrong with that?” Isaac sniffed, his lips trembling. “I love him, Mama.”  
“Oh, Isaac! He loved you, baby. He loved you so much,” she said as he began crying.  
Arthur watched as Isaac moaned and sobbed, the tears spilling like rivers from his eyes, and Arthur’s heart tore with every sound. **“Tell him, Eliza.”**  
“He loved you so, Isaac!” she said. “He did. He might not have loved me. I never was certain of that,” she said quietly, gulping to get the words out.  
Arthur looked at her.  
“But there was never a doubt in my mind that he loved you. The world wide. He did. I saw it. It was one of the things I loved about him so much.” She gasped and sputtered, beginning to weep along with him. “He _loved_ you, Isaac. _Oh_ , how he loved you.”  
Arthur watched as Isaac lifted his eyes to his mother, his frown still bent and somber.  
Isaac slowly shook his head. “Not enough,” he whispered. “Where is he?”  
As the men started to slowly move again, Eliza’s eyes darted up, and she sucked in a gasp as she realized the world was resuming course.  
“No. _No_ ,” she panicked, spreading her hands out to Isaac and beginning to lunge as the man finished cocking the gun.  
Arthur felt himself pant and heave with her at the thought of what was about to happen.  
And it all did happen, so fast. Isaac never buckled or wavered, but stood his ground. His frown trembled as he managed the frailest of whispers: “I love you, Ma—”  
The man’s finger tightened around the trigger, and he shot Isaac down.  
Eliza’s skull-splitting screech immediately ripped through the air, and Arthur dipped his head.  
That was the pure, unadulterated sound of a broken heart. She’d let out a cry loud enough for the both of them.  
She fell to her hands and knees, her body convulsing violently as she retched hard onto the floor.  
“Ah, _sick!_ ” one of the men jeered as he quickly lifted his boot. “Who's gonna clean this up? Ain’t me.”  
“Shut it, Jeb,” the other man snapped. “We ain’t gonna be round to clean up any of it, stupid. _Any_ of it.”  
He reached down and took Eliza’s blonde hair in his grip close to her scalp. “Come here, pretty little thing,” he murmured in an awful silky tone with a sneer-like smile across his face. “Have you another gander at the good work I done.”  
With her eyes half-mast and weary, he jerked her head towards Isaac’s dead body, where she clenched her hands and let out another piercing scream. Finally her lungs died out and her screams gave way to pathetic, guttural, animalistic gurgles and sobs as he threw her to the ground where she crumpled next to Isaac.  
She crawled towards him, reaching out and cradling his body to hers with what little strength she had left.  
“My baby…” she cooed in broken sobs and sniffled quietly as she stroked his cheek. “My sweet, sweet baby.”  
“I cain’t hardly take this no more, Leroy,” the other man said. “If you’re gonna shut her up, do it now, will ya?”  
The man who’d shot Isaac lifted Arthur’s gun and took aim at Eliza on the floor.  
Arthur watched her play with Isaac’s hair as though he were still alive, gravity pulling her quiet tears in streams to the floor as her lips trembled.  
_“I tried, Arthur,”_ she breathed. _“I did.”_  
Arthur shut his eyes tight and cringed as he heard the gunshot ring out. The clap lingered in the air for a few seconds before it drifted away, giving way to an awful, poisonous silence.  
“M-maybe we shouldn’a done that,” one of them said after the air stilled. “Look it. She really did love him an awful lot…poor lil gal.”  
“You ain’t goin' soft on me, are ya?”  
“N-no…it’s just… Aw, let’s git outta here. They cain’t a’ possibly had _nobody_ in the world.”  
“I sure hope not. That’s half the fun. Didn’t she say somebody would come by?”  
“I don’t remember,” the other grumbled as they left. “Grab the stupid ten bucks, and let’s git outta here.”  
When Arthur finally opened his eyes the men were gone, though he hadn’t heard their footsteps leaving.  
Isaac’s and Eliza’s slain, broken bodies lay on the floor, still and silent, their blood pooling around them, their eyes open and cold and lifeless. The silence in the room, the silence he remembered only too well that they’d left in his life, was deafening.  
Empty. No breath. No pulse. No warmth. No life.  
**“No.”** He shut his eyes and turned his head, his chest feeling as though it were filled with detonating dynamite.  
**“No.”** The pain of seeing them like this… Of reality.  
He’d never quite understood or taken time to grapple with how the soul was connected to and housed in the body. How the body was where the soul lived, but a person was somehow both at once—no less of one than the other.  
He’d seen enough people die, seen the people he’d killed. But he’d never taken a second moment to look again. Here and now, standing before the empty, broken, lifeless bodies of the people he’d held so dear, he was forced to understand it a little better.  
**“No,”** he shook his head. **“Get me outta here. I didn’t ever need to see this to feel like _human shit!_ ”** he shouted, his voice steadily rising. He lifted an arm and thrashed against the wall, but his fist fell through it. **“I’m done! I’ve had enough! Wake up, you goddamn son of a bitch!”**  
At that moment the dog he’d gotten Isaac, still not fully grown, came slowly into the room. She sniffed and kissed them, whimpering and crying when they didn’t move to greet her. She finally curled up into a little ball on the floor next to Isaac.  
Time seemed to speed up, and the dog’s head bobbed up like she’d heard something. She rushed out into the sitting room and came back with the old mercantile owner who’d told Arthur what had happened to them. He must’ve been there to deliver their groceries. When he saw the state of them, he fell to his knees and cried.  
Arthur watched as time sped by again and the coroner came to put their limp, thin bodies in coffins. He was swept out front where a small gathering of people were waiting by gaping holes in the earth.  
The old woman who’d been there with Eliza when Arthur first met Isaac was on her knees as they lowered the coffins into the ground.  
Arthur swallowed, and his jaw flared. One of them was far too small a coffin to ever be going into the earth.  
He listened as the old woman wept and wailed. A preacher was there. The mercantile owner stood and put a hand to his gray head. A schoolmarm and a few children who must’ve been Isaac’s classmates were gathered and sniffling. There was a group of four young women, one of them with bright red hair Arthur seemed to vaguely recognize. There was an old man with a scraggily beard in a fine suit who removed his bowler and held it to his chest.   
_I keep thinkin’, Arthur…_ he heard Eliza’s weepy words to him on his last visit, so long ago now, _w_ _hen my time finally does come, no one will know I was ever here, on this earth, I mean._  
He watched the somber gathering and swallowed past the painful jagged rock in his throat. _**Oh, they knew, darlin’,**_ he thought to himself. _**We knew.**_  
“Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God,” the preacher said as they continued to slowly lower the caskets. “Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied. Blessed are the…merciful…for they shall obtain…mercy.”  
The preacher closed his eyes as the coffins let out a thud when they hit the bottoms of the graves. “Mercy,” he whispered to himself and sniffed. He swallowed as he opened his eyes to address the gathering. “Mercy!” he said. “We don’t see a lot of it in our world. There is no sense to be made of it. For it is only the face of pure evil who could’ve done this. So young, they were. So young and dear.”  
The preacher’s head sagged, but he looked back up. “But, good people,” he looked around at the group, “it is one of these scriptures that reminds us: ‘Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.’ It is that we will cling to today.”  
Arthur watched as time again sped forward and the group left one by one, dropping handfuls of dirt on the coffins. A couple of the men covered the graves, leaving two crosses erect in the ground. The sun and moon rotated quickly in the sky a number of times, and things returned to a normal speed again when he heard hoof steps.  
His eyes shot wide when he saw himself come over the hill on Bo. He watched himself freeze when he saw the graves and bow his head. He rode over and slid off Bo, falling beside the graves.  
He could remember clearly what he’d felt in this moment: that he wanted to sink into the earth with them.  
As he stood watching himself, all at once memories of them flashed before his eyes.  
But all the soft touches, the tears and the comfort, the smiles, and the laughter—he felt certain none of it mattered if it was only ever going to lead them here. Because of one choice he’d made.  
The words of the preacher again resounded in his head: “…who could’ve done this.”  
As Arthur looked at himself on the ground, a string of expletives erupted out of him. _**“You!”**_ he rushed for his younger self with every intention of wringing his own neck. But his hands went straight through him.  
**“How could you?! How could you _ever_ leave them?! They were precious!” **his voice broke as his shoulders sagged. **“More precious than anything you ever robbed or killed for. And y…you…”** he tried to catch his breath, **“you might as well have killed them yourself.”**  
He gritted his teeth. **“You turned your back on ‘em! You were their family! They loved you! They _loved_ you!”** His brows pinched together, and he almost whined. **“Where're you gonna get that now, huh? You sad, sick son of a bitch!”**  
As Arthur watched his younger self release a couple raggedy tears, his face slowly began to relax and smooth. **“And you…”** He swallowed. _**You loved ‘em too.**_  
Isaac’s simple words again rang loudly in his mind, and he cringed and ducked like he’d been hit over the head:  
_Not enough._  
He shut his eyes and let out a breath. **“They were your family,”** he said, his own voice fed up with him. He opened his eyes to look at himself. **“All she wanted was for you to remember her, to remember them. In life, or in death, if that’s how things went. And here you are about to stuff it all away, to put them away like they never existed, like they meant nothin’—for your own lousy survival.”** He followed his own gaze to the graves. **“Selfish to the last.”**  
He shook his head. **“Mercy…”** he scoffed bitterly before looking back at himself. **“You don’t deserve it.”**


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I was supposed to live a different life.”  
> “Me too.”  
>   
> \- Jeremiah Compson & Arthur, respectively

Arthur began to both dread and yearn for his dreams—uneasy over what he might see, but still filled with inescapable longing just to be near the two of them. But he didn’t dream every night. Sometimes he’d go weeks without it.  
One night when he went to his cot, he dreamt he was standing in a town he seemed to recognize.  
He turned and saw a young man and woman holding hands, their fingers interlaced, walking down a dusty country lane at the outskirts of town. Her belly was huge, her hair like the sun.  
When he realized who it was, he quickly started following, though he kept himself hidden and to the side.  
But who was it strolling with her? He walked ahead until he got far enough to see the feller's face, and his eyes grew wide: it was a younger version of himself.  
He froze and watched them walk past him. Panicking and not wanting to lose them, he hurried to catch up. He got close enough to see their faces and hear them, but he meant to hide himself behind the foliage alongside the road. When he reached out for a tree, he realized his hand went straight through it. He wasn’t really here. None of this was real. It was only what could’ve been. What _should’ve_ been—if he’d opened his heart to her.  
“Eliza…I been meanin’ to ask you somethin'.”  
Arthur looked up at the sound of his own voice.  
“Hm?” she mumbled.  
He couldn’t take his eyes off either of them. He was so young; what was he—twenty-four? And she was even younger. _Nineteen_. Maybe just barely twenty, now that almost nine months had passed. Again, he was amazed at her strength and courage at so young an age.  
He gazed after them as they strolled, so relaxed and easy. How well they fit together. Why couldn’t he see it?  
His younger self stopped her, causing her to look up at him with those green eyes he never could seem to forget.  
He came close and kissed her, and Arthur watched him fumble with something and her hand. When he saw what it was, Arthur’s brows lifted. Maybe this kid could see how well they fit together after all. He was slipping a wedding band on her left ring finger.  
Arthur chuffed at himself and shook his head. Leave it to him to describe himself as asking something, and never actually ask anything. Real romantic, a real dandy and a charmer.  
Arthur stepped closer to get a look at the ring. Once the ring was on her finger and he could see it clearly, his eyes shot wide.  
**“Where the hell did you get cash for a rock, kid?”** he said. His own expression quickly fell flat, and he waved a hand. **“You know—don't answer that.”**  
She looked down to see what he’d done. When she looked up, he saw tears in her eyes and one of the brightest, widest smiles he’d ever seen. ‘Ecstatically happy’ were the words he’d use.  
**“Oh, that’s nice,”** Arthur provided commentary on the scene, though no one could hear him. He shot his younger self a look of derision. **“Real nice. How you gonna make that work? You gonna stay with her? Yeah, right. You don’t have it in you, you sick, twisted bastard. You ain’t bein' fair to her.”** He looked at her, her eyes gleaming, her smile bright. **“…There…really…ain’t a way to be fair to her, is there?”**  
She looked like she was about to lean in and kiss him, but she suddenly hitched up, as if just remembering something. “Oh, Arthur,” she began to fidget.  
“What is it?”  
She brought her fingers up and rubbed her temple. “Well, don't… Don’t laugh at me, all right?”  
“What's goin’ on?” he chuckled. “What’re you talkin' about?”  
She dipped her fingers into a little hidden pocket at her side behind the ribbon that served as a faux waistband above her big belly and pulled something out. “I’ve kept it with me since my pa died.”  
When she took his left hand and slipped it on him, he looked down to find what he thought he’d never see: a gold wedding band on his own ring finger.  
A smile slowly crept across his mouth as he touched it, an airy little chuckle escaping his throat.  
“I know it looks simple,” she added feverishly. “But it’s got a Celtic knot engraved on this side. Remember I told you, my folks believed in Celtic souls?”  
“‘Course I remember,” he said quietly.  
“D—” she swallowed. “Do you…like it?”  
His grin widened, and he finally nodded. “It’s perfect.”  
She looked down at his mouth and kissed him softly, intertwining her fingers through his. As she drew away, she looked up into his eyes. “Mrs. Arthur Morgan. I like that. Nothing ever sounded so wonderful.”  
He looked up and stroked her hair away from her forehead, tucking it back behind her ear. “Eliza Morgan. I like that even better.”  
She bit her lip and gave a little bounce. “Can we do it tomorrow?”  
“Sure,” he chuckled. “If you haven’t burst by then.”  
“Arthur,” she tisked as they continued walking. “They’ll say you took a child bride,” she added softly.  
“Who's _they?_ ” he guffawed. “I couldn’t care less. Do you?”  
“Well, I…” she swallowed. “I don’t want to be thought of as silly, or flighty, or…a burden.”  
“Hey,” he stopped, causing her to look back at him. “I know you. You ain’t any a’ those things.”  
She slowly smiled. “Well then, no. I don’t care.”  
He brought his arm around her and kissed her cheek, and they continued walking. “One a' these days I’ll get up enough cash to get us a nice place,” he said. “Preferably far away from here.”  
Arthur’s brows rose yet again as he followed them. He was planning to stay with her. Maybe this kid was smarter than him after all.  
“You don’t like Misty Willow?” she said.  
“I hate this stupid town! The way they look at us… Darlin', I didn’t ever wanna to tell you this, but…the kinda things they say about you…” He shook his head, his jaw tense. “I swear to god, I almost knocked this one feller’s head off his shoulders the other day at the general store.” He squinted sourly. “Just because we put the cart before the horse ain’t no reason to talk about you like that.”  
“You can’t hide me from it, Arthur. I’ve heard it all.”  
He looked at her beside him. “So why you wanna stay here?”  
“Well, I… If you wanted to move us, I wouldn’t mind. I’ll follow you anywhere,” she smiled. “But this is my hometown; it’s all I know. My mama and papa are buried here… And there are still some good people here.”  
He shot her a knowing look. “Addie don’t count.”  
A laugh burst through her nose. “Arthur!” She nudged him in the arm. “Of course she does. I don’t know what I’d do without her. I wouldn’t have a place to stay right now. We owe her a lot.”  
“Ol' Addie,” he chuckled. He looked up and halted abruptly, his expression scrunching. “Oh!” he tisked his tongue. “You brought us _here?_ ”  
“It’s Sunday, Arthur! When’re you gonna go inside?”  
Arthur turned to see what they were looking at: an old little church building. He smirked and shook his head. **“Good luck with that, Eliza.”**  
His younger self grumbled and trudged the opposite way. “I ain’t steppin' foot in there.”  
“Why not?”  
“Plenty a' reasons.” He grimaced. “We just got through talkin' about the awful people in this town! You can’t tell me they’re any different inside there!” he pointed.  
“They are different than the folk you've seen—most of them, anyway.” She lifted her hands and let them drop. “You find good and bad people everywhere, Arthur. Including inside there. It ain’t about them.”  
Her eyes followed him as he squirmed. “The Good Book teaches kindness, compassion, grace—I mean, it’s got a reputation of bein' amazing, Arthur!” she said with a laugh. “You might find you like it,” she said gently.  
“I ain’t ready,” he said firmly, shaking his head. “Ain’t nearly ready.”  
She sighed and gave a half-smile. “Well…let’s sit over here and listen to the singing then, at least.” She ventured toward a big oak tree nearby and sat atop its low hanging branch. “Come on. Come sit with me.”  
Arthur watched as his younger self looked over at her and followed his gaze. With her wispy golden hair and the light freckles on her nose, she was nothing short of darling as she hobbled and scooted back onto the branch, obviously trying to get into a position that was both comfortable and wouldn’t let her huge belly topple her forward.  
Arthur smiled at the precious sight he wished he’d seen in reality. He looked back at his younger self, who was smiling along with him.  
**“You know you can’t resist her, bud. You never could.”** He watched his younger self relax, his smile brightening.  
“How ‘bout I come behind you and hold you?” he said, quickly doing just that.  
She closed her eyes and grinned, leaning back into him as he brought his chin to rest over the crook in her shoulder. “Mmm… Even better.”  
Knowing they couldn’t see him, Arthur came around and stood nearby, a little off to the side, so he could easily see their faces and hear everything.  
She sighed. “How are we going to get married if you can’t step foot in a church, Arthur? You know you have to get married in front of God, right?”  
He groaned. “Maybe we could do it outside, in the sunshine. People do that, don’t they? It is God’s green earth, after all.”  
“I suppose so.” She nodded her head to the side as the sounds of singing rose from the church. “This is a real old one they’re singin’ today. Ain’t it beautiful? I always loved the fiddle they use.”  
“Your voice is much prettier. You sing it for me, darlin’.”  
Arthur prepared himself for Eliza's angelic tone as she smiled and took a breath.  
“ _Come thou fount of every blessing_ ,” she sang in time with the music. “ _Tune my heart to sing thy grace._ ” She looked down at his hands where they rested atop her belly. When he turned them over and opened them up to her soft touch, she began tracing her fingers over and through his palms. “ _Streams of mercy, never ceasing, call for songs of loudest praise._ ”  
He kissed the crook of her neck once, twice. And before long he wasn’t just kissing; he was putting a mark on her skin.  
She closed her eyes, her singing trailing off. “Arthur…we can’t. Outside a church? It ain’t the place.”  
“Why not? You’re God's good creation.”  
From where he stood watching them, Arthur rolled his eyes at his own comment.  
“How long you think they’ll be in there?” his younger self said.  
“Arthur, _no_ ,” she laughed.  
He brought his hand up to her chest.  
“Oh, please don’t,” she said catching his hand. “I’m due any day, and I’m real sore to the touch there. It hurts.”  
“Mm, I’m sorry,” he mumbled against her neck. “Guess I’m just lonesome for ya, is all.”  
She turned her face towards him, and he kissed her mouth.  
“I know. I miss you too,” she said between kisses. When he finally drew back, she took a breath. “Believe me,” she eyed him. “There was a time I could hardly think of anything else. Addie said a lot of ladies get it—can you believe that? She said it’s one of the stages of pregnancy.”  
He looked at her with a wry expression, his tone going mischievously high. “Where was I for this precious little ‘stage?’”  
Her grin went sheepish and wobbly. “I tried real hard not to let on whenever you came round. I was tryin’ to be a good girl. But I was terribly weak just at the sight of you. You ever…gone without food for a time, then get your eyes on a ripe fruit—or a nice, juicy hunk of steak?”  
With a dazed look, he lifted his eyebrows. “My god.”  
She ducked her head and lifted her shoulders, snickering.  
“I never been described as a piece a' meat before,” he said with a breathy chuckle. He swallowed and blinked, then looked at her. “Why on earth would you keep that from me? You just don't keep that to yourself! Sounds like we coulda made the angels sing!”  
Her belly bobbled as her laughter petered off, and she sighed. “Now most of the time I’m just plumb uncomfortable. You know how much my back hurts.”  
“Yeah, I know,” he moaned.  
“It’s too bad… You know, the very last time we made love, before I realized I was pregnant, we were interrupted,” she eyed him with a smirk.  
He groaned and rolled his eyes. “Don’t remind me.”  
From where he stood listening, Arthur’s brows scrunched together. **“What…? What’re they talkin' about?”**  
A little cloud materialized before him, playing images of a quiet scene deep in the lush forest: clothes strewn on the ground and the sounds of lips smacking and sighing as the two of them were revealed to be lying together completely bare in the thick, soft grass of the forest floor beneath a tree.

“You’re tickling me, Arthur!” she giggled. When he whispered something in her ear, she smiled bright. “Hm?”  
“I said I know, but I like seein’ your pretty smile,” he said quietly. When a mumbled chuckle came through her closed lips, he kissed under her ear. “I know just exactly what I’m doin' when I get you there, girl. I know all the _ins and outs_ a’ you.”  
“Shhh,” she fought a laugh as she gently rested a hand across his face. “Don’t be lewd.”  
“Lewd?! Right here and now, we’re about as lewd as we can get!”  
The lilt of her laughter in retort caught on the breeze.  
He went on kissing her, and she sighed and wrapped her arms around him. Just as she was about to close her eyes, a figure appeared behind the tree, and Eliza was the first to see it.  
“Arthur,” she gasped and patted him, quickly turning her face. Blushing, she scrambled to scrunch herself up under his body.  
He looked up and turned his head to see what had caused her such shock.  
“ _John!_ ” he thundered, quickly moving his arm to shield her naked body from view.  
“I’m sorry—” John gasped. “I didn’t—"  
“Jesus, kid! What the hell’re you doin' here? You followin’ me?!”  
“No! Weren’t like that. I was nearby and saw your horse and no you!” he said quickly. “I'm sorry, I didn’t—”  
“Goddamn it!” he bit through clenched teeth. “Get the hell outta here already! _Get!_ ” he shouted with a swat at the air behind him, and John quickly scurried away. “Ssshhhhit…” he mumbled as he turned back to her.  
Eliza let out a breath that blew her stray hair, while the tops of her cheeks were already flushed red. “This is the last time we do it like this,” she said low, and a little snicker coming through her nose as she put her hand to her forehead. “I can’t believe that just happened.”  
“He’s just a stupid, snot-nosed thirteen-year-old kid. He’s like a kid brother to me.”  
She smiled. “You gonna introduce me to him right and proper, when I’m not on my back?”  
He rolled his eyes. “You’re lucky you don’t know him. He’s annoying as hell. As you can see.”  
He smiled at the sound of her laugh and returned to kissing her jaw. “Where were we?”

As he stood before the little cloud, Arthur groaned and let his face fall into his hand. **“That should never have any place in my dreams. Take it away,”** he said with a wave of his hand, and the cloud dissipated.  
He returned his eyes to the image of the two of them—Eliza where she sat in the tree, and himself standing behind her.  
“Well,” his younger self said to her, “I’m sure we woulda been able to figure our way around this belly a' yours. But now I think about it, don’t you think it woulda hurt the baby? Or…you?”  
“Oh, I seriously doubt that,” she waved a hand with a smile. “Addie tells me that though my inner workings are real intricate, I’m built tough.”  
“Well…I’m sorry we weren’t livin’ as husband and wife yet.”  
“Guess kisses will have to do for now,” she smiled, meeting his lips.  
She suddenly broke away and gasped. “Arthur.” She grabbed his hand and ran it down over her belly. She smiled when his eyes went wide.  
“Is that…?”  
She nodded profusely with a wide grin.  
“ _Christ_ ,” he said slowly and loudly.  
She glanced up at the church building. “Arthur! Hush!”  
“We made that?” He looked at her, and she nodded again. “We made that,” he said, a hazy smile growing on his mouth.  
“He's movin' a lot today, actually.”  
“ _He?_ ”  
“Mother’s intuition,” she shrugged.  
Still behind the tree branch and with his hand still in place, he began to gather and pull her skirts up over her big belly as he knelt and brought his face close.  
“Arthur!”  
“What, you got knickers on, don’t ya?”  
“Yes, but…” She watched as he closely studied her bare skin and smiled when a subtle bump glided across her belly again.  
“Little one,” he said low and soft. “It’s your daddy.” When a bump suddenly jumped under her skin, his eyes popped up to her with a bright smile.  
She chirped a giggle. “He hears you. He’s reachin' out for you.”  
“All right then. Seems I’ve got your attention,” he said to her belly. “Let me just tell you a few things about your mama.”  
“Careful,” she eyed him with an arch to her brow.  
He smirked. “She’s sweeter than honey and beautiful to boot. But don’t let her fool you—she’s got a feisty streak, a little mischievous spark.” He laughed as another bump appeared. “Oof. Got too close,” he said to her, rubbing the side of his chin. “Kid’s got a mean right hook.”  
She laughed.  
“Aw, you don’t have to defend her, kid. She’s got a lot goin’ for her. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you she’s got the best singin' voice you’ll ever hear.” He looked up at her with a soft grin. “She’s gonna make a terrific mama.”  
She smiled, a thin rim of tears lining the bottom of her eyes.  
“As for your pa, well…” he sighed. “I best just prepare you: you might not like this ugly mug you got to look at. Poor little thing.”  
“Arthur,” she clucked her tongue. “You’ll make a wonderful father. I know it.”  
He chuffed and shook his head, smiling. “Long as I got you to show me how.” He looked back to her belly when he felt the baby move beneath his hand again. “What’s it feel like?”  
A gleam flitted across her face. “No one’s ever asked me that before,” she chuckled. “I guess it… You know that feelin’ when you get real nervous—oh, you probably don’t. Probably don’t ever get nervous.”  
“Keep goin',” he said in a high tone. “I’m followin' ya.”  
“When you get real nervous, and you feel somethin’ like a thousand butterflies flapping their wings inside your chest?”  
He grinned and nodded.  
“It’s kinda like that, but one huge butterfly, and down in your belly instead.”  
He smiled bright as he straightened to stand beside her, letting her skirts fall back over her belly.  
She brought her hand to his cheek and kissed him again. “You still gonna be with me when my body changes again? When I’m all stretched—spread out and wrinkly?”  
He grinned. “I can’t wait.”  
“What!” her eyebrows shot up. “You can’t possibly mean that.”  
“Y'know… I thought we had something like this conversation a long time ago,” he mumbled. “When your belly was just startin' to grow. You remember?”  
**“All right…”** Arthur sighed with a smirk from where he stood watching. **“Show me the cloud again.”**  
The little cloud appeared before him again, and he saw his younger self standing at a closed front door with his hat on his head and a bundle of wildflowers in his fist.

He gently knocked on the door, and it fell slightly open. He leaned to the side to peek through the opening as he slowly pushed it further open. He walked inside and looked around, but the place seemed empty.  
“Eliza? You hom—” His voice caught when he heard singing and humming from the back room.  
He stepped through the house and noticed the door was just a sliver ajar. He leaned in to see Eliza exiting the bathtub.  
Arthur could almost hear the wild beating of the heart inside his younger self as he began to turn away.  
But when he heard her warm, silky voice: “… _whose name is love, who ever lives and pleads for me…_ ” he took a breath and slowly looked back.  
She’d wrapped herself in a towel and was walking towards her dresser as she continued singing, when she passed the mirror and was snagged at the sight of her reflection. She turned and opened the towel to look at herself. She let her head sag to the side and released a little sigh as she dropped the towel from around her.  
When she turned to the side, he could see the teardrop shape of her small but growing belly as she smoothed a hand over it before turning to face the mirror again.  
She tisked her tongue and gave a tiny groan, “Oh, look at you. He’ll never wanna touch you again.”  
He smirked and silently stepped inside the room, thankful that the mirror was propped in a way that he was just outside of the reflection. He set the flowers on the bed and removed his hat, resting it atop the flowers.  
“All he’ll feel is disgusted,” she mumbled to herself.  
He silently came up behind her and gently slipped a hand to her side under her arm. “Disgusted, huh?”  
She gasped and jumped. “Arthur!”  
He brought both hands around her and pressed his lips to her bare shoulder.  
“ _Disgusted_ …” he wrinkled his nose at the sound of the syllables. “Strong word.”  
She let out a breath through her nose and smiled as his kisses ventured higher up her neck. “I don’t mean to be vain. It’s just…it seems so much about me is changin'. I can’t stop it or even slow it down. I guess it…makes me nervous. ‘Cause I’m sure…there are things you liked about me that just aren’t gonna be quite the same.”  
“Like what?” He rested his head beside hers and looked into the mirror with her. “From where I’m standin', everything looks mighty good to me.” He turned and gently bit her soft earlobe. “Good enough to eat.”  
She mumbled a shy chuckle, which rattled her against him. As he wrapped his big arms around her, she rested hers over his.  
“‘Sides. You’re my same Eliza. No matter what. Nothin'll change that.”  
She grinned wide. “How did you get in here?”  
“Front door was unlocked. Bedroom door was open.”  
“What?”  
“Which we gotta talk about, ‘cause I don’t like how easy it was to waltz in here and see you naked.” He caught himself. “Well, I guess I do. But I don’t like the thought of just anyone waltzin' in here.”  
A laugh rumbled through her nose. “You don’t _waltz_ anywhere, Arthur.” She looked up at him in the mirror as he kissed behind her jaw. “What're you doin’ here?”  
“Brought you flowers.”  
“Oh?” she smiled.  
“They’re on the bed,” he mumbled. “Maybe we oughtta be too.”  
She closed her eyes and let her head tilt to the side. “Don’t do this to me,” she moaned. “Addie’s gonna be home any minute.”  
He groaned and let his head sag back before going to pick up his hat and the flowers. “I’m gettin’ tired a' that old bird. Startin’ to come between me an’ my woman.”  
“No,” she chuckled. “No one ever will. But you don’t live here, Arthur. What do you expect?” She wrapped the towel around herself again and began shooing him out of the room. “Go put ‘em in water, and I’ll come out to admire ‘em in a minute. Go on.”  
When she’d brought the door almost closed, she snuck her face into the opening and smiled. “Arthur.” She waited for him to look back at her. “Thank you. They’re lovely.”  
He smiled as she continued to close the door. “Got nothin’ on you, honey.”

The cloud dissipated again, and Arthur looked back at them.  
“I know,” she tried to smile. “But I never…been pregnant before, and… I just got so big. I didn’t realize… And I just think…what I said, with bein’ spread out and whatnot.” She timidly looked up at him. “It’ll probably happen sooner rather than later.”  
“Well, I better just get used to it then.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“Well…” he said rubbing his neck, “if it goes well with the first kid, I don’t see why we shouldn’t have bunches more.”  
Her face smoothed as she looked into his eyes, a little breathy chuckle escaping her. “Arthur…are you serious?”  
“Sure, why not,” he shrugged. “Just cause I’m terrified outta my wits don’t mean you weren’t made for this. I’ll just have to learn right along with ya.”  
She smiled. “So you won’t get tired of me.”  
“Tired of you? Never. Ain’t possible,” he said with a shake of his head and a smile. “You’re my girl, Eliza. Inside and out.”  
She took a breath as she brought her hand to his cheek, and he rested his forehead against hers.  
He returned his chin to the crook of her neck, this time bringing both his hands under her belly and cradling both his woman and his baby.  
“If it is a boy,” she said warmly, “I’d really like to name him Isaac, after my pa. If that’s all right with you.”  
He nodded. “I’m just sorry he ain’t here to see it,” he whispered.  
Arthur stood limp, staring at the scene, his stomach flipping and revolting. But it wasn’t because he didn’t like what he saw. It was because he couldn’t have it. Somewhere inside him he wanted this, badly enough that he was dreaming it up. But it was all long gone and out of reach now. All of it.  
And he couldn’t give it to her either. He watched her run her hands down over his as he held her and noticed the new ring on her finger, the gold glinting against her skin, the diamond sparkling in the sunlight. He took in her young face: her eyes closed, her grin soft and bright as the two of them swayed gently. His mind drifted to what reality had been in comparison, and a stone rose in his throat.  
He shook his head. **“I’m so, so sorry, Eliza.”** As if that meant anything now.  
“Let’s get goin',” his younger self said after a few minutes, “before they start comin' out.” He came around the branch and took her hand in his to help her up.  
As she scooted off and stood, she quickly looked down, causing him to follow her gaze to see a big splatter of liquid between her boots.  
“Oh,” she said softly.  
“What, did you piss?” he chuckled.  
“No, it’s… Addie said it would…” She looked up at him with excitement. “It’s happening, Arthur.”  
His eyes shot to the size of oranges.  
“I guess he decided it’s time to come out and see you!” she said with a smile.  
“All…all right…” he said shakily, moving like he didn’t know where to be or what to do. He looked around. “Shit. How do I get you to her from here? Without Bo or Samson? We didn’t think this through very well, hun.”  
“Just walk me back into town and ask someone who’s got a wagon if we can borrow it.”  
He took her hand and did as he was bade, with Arthur following them.  
When they got to the edge of town he kept his eyes open for a wagon. He finally saw one parked on the side of the road, where the old grocer was unloading dry goods, fruits, and veggies. “Hey! Hey, mister!” he said. “Hate to do this to ya, but think we might borrow your wagon? She’s havin' a baby.”  
“Eliza?” the grocer said as he straightened.  
She nodded. “Yes, sir, it’s me, Mr. Andrews.”  
**“Andrews,”** Arthur shook his head. **“Figures. Can’t even get him outta my dreams?”**  
“Well, hop in. Where you need to go? I’ll take you there.”  
“I ain’t doin' much hoppin' these days,” she chuckled in spite of herself.  
“Appreciate ya. The old midwife, Addie Walters's place,” Arthur said hefting her gently into the wagon. “You know it?”  
“Sure,” he said sitting in the seat and taking the reins. “She helped my daughter-in-law with her labor just the other day.”  
As he watched Eliza and his younger self get into the wagon, Arthur stepped up himself behind the two of them before the grocer tore off.  
His younger self came close to her and held her hand, whispering to her as her breathing began to pick up. He suddenly drew back and looked at her, his mouth going wobbly.  
“What?” she asked.  
“You look kinda funny.”  
She huffed a single laugh. As the wagon hit a bump in the road, she groaned.  
“Any chance you could avoid those bumps, or take ‘em a little nicer?” he lifted his voice to the grocer.  
“Fast, or no bumps. Pick one,” the grocer called back.  
Both Arthur and his younger self rolled their eyes.  
His younger self shifted to sit beside her. As they jostled in the wagon with the apples, carrots, bags of flour and potatoes, her blonde hair began to unravel from its pins. He took it between his fingers and brushed the back of his forefinger over her cheek. “I’ll be right there with you, the whole time,” he said.  
She held her belly with one hand and took hold of his with the other.  
When they finally arrived at Addie’s, he helped her down and walked her to the front door.  
“Thanks for your help, mister,” he called back as the grocer wished them well and rode away. He knocked on the door. “Addie, open up! It’s Eliza!” When she opened the door, he came right in with her.  
Arthur followed, passing through the door like it wasn’t there as Addie closed it behind them.  
“The babe’s comin',” his younger self said.  
“I can see that. Bring her back to the bedroom,” Addie said.  
He helped her to the back as Arthur followed all of them, watching closely. Eliza was beginning to sweat and breath hastily.  
“Help her out of her gown,” Addie said as she went to her shelf for a few things.  
He set his black hat on a chair and went to Eliza’s back, immediately fumbling with her stays. “Huh…” he chuckled nervously, “you know I never was any good at this, darlin'.”  
“Arthur!” Eliza whined, throwing her head back. “Now is not the time!” After a few more moments with no success, she finally huffed, “He can’t do it! Addie!”  
“No, no, it’s fine, I’ve got it just fine,” he mumbled, finally stripping her frock off to reveal her linen chemise.  
As soon as he did, he quickly looked back at her. He blinked, stolen away for a moment by the beauty of her in her natural state: the smooth skin of her bare shoulder where the chemise was slipping off, her breasts loose under the linen fabric as she struggled to catch her breath.  
**“Focus, bud,”** Arthur snapped in front of his face.  
“Focus, heathen!” Addie barked at him.  
At that, he jumped. “S-sorry,” he said with a swallow. “Hey, it’s been a while for us, all right?”  
He helped her step out of the gown as Addie continued gathering medicines and herbs from about the room.  
“Eliza, is that a ring on your finger?” Addie said with a sour face.  
“Yes, it’s a ring!” she said as he came behind her, running his fingers under the hair at her neck and tying it back for her. “I’m his, and he’s mine, and that’s all there is to it, okay?”  
“Eliza…” she wagged her head in disapproval. “I never did like him.”  
Arthur’s eyes went wide, and his jaw dropped. “She finally came out with it, hun!” he laughed. “Well, here's news for you, Addie: I knew it all along! Ha! Who could miss it?”  
“You knocked her up, you block-headed degenerate! Got her tossed out on her bum! Out of a good place!”  
“Well I'm here, ain’t I?!” he said coming towards her from behind Eliza with a scowl on his face. “Don’t that count for anything with you?”  
“Oh no…” Eliza whispered.  
“You’re nothin' but a low-down, dirty scoundrel,” Addie said. “A scallywag! A ruffian!”  
“No. No, please…” Eliza whined.  
“Oh, you’ve had it out for me from the start, you old goat—"  
“Stop it! Stop it, _please!_ ” Eliza yelled, and they both froze, looking back at her. “ _You_ —” she looked at Addie, “quit houndin' him. And _you_ —” she eyed him, “She's helpin' us!”  
She looked back and forth between the two. “I need both of you right now,” she said, taking another hasty breath. “I’m…” She swallowed, and their eyes were glued to her. “I’m real scared.” She reached out and took a fistful of his shirt, her eyes filling. “Arthur…”  
He quickly went to her and held her as Addie rushed to prop the pillows up on the cot for her.  
“Eliza…” he whispered to her. “It’ll be all right. It will.”  
“How do you know?” she sniffed, looking up into his eyes.  
“I just know these things, honey,” he said leading her to the bed. “I just know.”  
“Addie, the baby, he’s tuggin' on me,” she whined and huffed as she sat on the cot and scooted herself back. “Is that right? It’s scarin' the livin' daylights outta me.”  
“Yes, it’ll feel like that, dear. But you’ll be just fine; trust me.” She turned and carelessly waved a finger in Arthur’s direction. “Get her knickers off,” she directed him. “I’ve gotta grab one more thing.”  
He immediately slumped his shoulders. “Call me a heathen?” he whined, but did as he was bade, going to Eliza’s knees. “You gonna help me out here, hun?” He looked up at her to see her eyes shut tight and her face pink as she took in deep breaths. “All right, guess I’m doin' it.”  
He slipped his hands up under her chemise and tugged her pantaloons down her thighs, pulling them past her knees and over her pale feet.  
Eliza shifted and bent her knees as Addie sat at the end of the bed. From his place by Eliza’s side he watched as Addie poured some kind of oil on her hands and reached up between Eliza's thighs. And for the most fleeting moment Arthur could almost tangibly feel the ire rise up in his younger self—that anyone should touch her where only he had, where only he was allowed.  
He looked back at Eliza’s pink face. “It might not be the best idea for me to be in here. My head's a little…wrong-side up for this. At least so far.”  
“No, you can’t leave me,” she said, catching him by the collar. “Please. Don’t.”  
“All right. If you’re sure that’s what you want.”  
She quickly nodded.  
“Eliza, I want you to breathe like this. Watch me, now,” Addie said showing her the breathing pattern, and Eliza copied it. “That’s it. Good. Very good,” she said with a smile. “Now, sweet girl, can you hold yourself under your thigh, like this? Arthur, you get the other leg. When she gets too tired, I’ll hold up the one she’s got.”  
Again he did as he was directed, scooping her thigh up under her knee.  
“All right, good. Now, next time you feel the need, Eliza, you give it a good push. But don’t stop breathin' like I showed you.”  
With one hand under her own thigh and the other gripping Arthur’s hand tight, Eliza grunted and dipped her chin when the urge to push was too great to resist.  
After another few hours off and on like that with little progress, he poked his head southward. When he noticed blood down on the bed sheet, it was clear his heart skipped a beat as he eyed Addie.  
“That supposed to happen?” he whispered to her.  
“Only every time, with every woman,” she said. “You just focus on her up there; I’ve got the rest handled.”  
Another couple hours of Eliza crying and whining and groaning, and they were nowhere closer. And as Arthur stood helplessly watching her agony increase, he was losing his nerve.  
“Sh— She’s tremblin',” he said.  
“It’s the pain,” Addie answered coolly.  
“What? Well, don’t you have somethin’ to give her?”  
“Not if she’s gonna keep her strength up.”  
“Somethin's wrong, now, damn it!” he said. “Ain’t supposed to be this way, I can feel it! You just tell me what’s goin’ on, Addie!”  
“Arthur,” Addie said evenly and quietly, “I’m gonna say this to you in the most sincere, calm way I can: If you’re gonna add a sense of panic to the room, you can just leave it.”  
Arthur and Eliza looked at each other.  
“She’s doin’ just fine. You are, baby girl,” she said, looking up at her and patting her leg.  
But Arthur caught an expression in her eyes as she looked back down that had involuntarily slipped out from behind her calm veneer. And his suspicions were proved correct when, after another hour or so took them into the night, Addie pulled him aside.  
Her look then was almost all he needed, to know something was truly wrong. It changed the atmosphere in an instant, to see the midwife’s deep concern riddled across the wrinkles of her face.  
“I'd say she’s had what I call a sleeper pregnancy. A wonderful nine months, then a hellish labor. Some ladies have it opposite,” she said as she wiped her hand on a washcloth. “Arthur,” she whispered to him. “I need you to keep your head when I tell you this. But we’re in a bind now. Baby's turned and in the right position, ready. I thought we'd be farther along by now, but it’s just… But she's lost some blood, more than I’d like. And she exhausted herself too early. You understand?”  
He scrunched up his face, trying to do just that.  
“Now, the babe’s pressin’, down where he needs to be. So it’s too late cut into her—”  
“ _Cut?_ ” He closed his eyes and shifted his weight, clearly willing her to slow down.  
“And if she don’t get on with it, we risk infection and shock and other bad things. I don’t wanna get there. Because…” She swallowed, and the wrinkles beneath her brows crinkled as her gaze flitted away for a moment.  
**“No…no, no, no,”** Arthur shook his head. **“This can’t be happening. Not in my dreams, no.”**  
“But she’s gotta do the rest on her own. Hear what I’m sayin’ to you?” Addie took him by the shoulder. “Arthur. The only way you get Eliza, our sweet Eliza, and your baby outta this, is if you get through to her that she has to find the strength to push through.”  
As she nodded, he slowly looked back at Eliza, and Arthur looked back with him.  
Her head had lolled back onto the pillow. Pieces of her hair were stuck to her pink face, her chemise soaked through with sweat, her belly still full and swollen, and her breathing shallow and ragged. Nearly all her energy and strength had been sapped, it was clear.  
He swallowed, slowly walked the grave little distance to her side, and crouched next to the cot. But when she saw him, she smiled.  
“Arthur…” she breathed.  
“I’m here, sweetheart. I’m here.”  
“Can I tell you somethin'?”  
“Anything.”  
She took a breath, and her face crumpled. “I miss my mama. I truly do. I miss her so, Arthur!” she cried.  
Arthur watched his own expression sift like sand, and he knew it was because there was nothing he could do for that.  
He brought his big hand under her head, threading his fingers in her hair. And as he held her like that, he swiped his thumb over her soft eyebrow while she looked up at him with big, fatigued eyes.  
“I know you do, honey. I know. But I’m here,” he brought her hand up to his mouth and kissed the back of it. “And our baby's comin'. Hm? D—” he frowned. Everything was coming out of him in a whisper. “Don’t you wanna meet our baby?”  
Her brows drew up, and she nodded slowly but strongly.  
“I know it hurts like hell. I can see it all over you. And it’s killin’ me. You know why?”  
She looked up at him.  
He looked into her eyes. His were full of deep, sincere worry. But under them, a subtly wry smirk was edging his mouth. “’Cause I did this to you.”  
A little chuckle erupted through her nose.  
“But I know you got the strength. All right? Okay?” he asked as she gave short, quick nods and sniffed. “And you ain’t alone. I’m right here with you, and I ain’t goin' anywhere. Not ever. You’re gonna be all right. And our baby's gonna be amazing. Already is.”  
She smiled wide.  
He helped her sit up a bit and took her thigh again.  
“All right, Eliza,” Addie said. “Nice, big breaths, okay? You’re goin’ all the way this time. I got a good feelin’.” She looked up at her from her spot at the end of the bed. “You get the urge, you use every last drop a' that momentum. Understand me?”  
Eliza nodded. After a couple minutes, she was shutting her eyes tight, pressing her lips together, and squeezing Arthur’s hand hard.  
“There. That’s it! You’re doin' great, baby girl! Keep goin',” Addie said. She glanced at Arthur. “Gimme her hand.”  
He reached her hand forward for Addie, who pulled it down between Eliza's legs.  
“Feel that?” Addie smiled.  
Eliza's eyes shot wide. “That's my baby!” she almost broke down into tears. “That’s my baby!”  
“That’s right,” Addie smiled. “That’s your baby’s head. See, he’s almost here, dear. Just a little more. Just a little further.”  
“Almost there. Hear that?” he grinned with relief.  
After several more minutes of her panting and grunting, they heard a slippery _whoosh_ , and Arthur looked down to see his child—ruddy, shiny, and pink.  
“A little boy. You have a son,” Addie smiled, quickly wiping his face and delivering a light smack on his bottom, which promptly caused him to suck in a breath and let out a high-pitched wail.  
“Oh! Isaac!” Eliza gasped and bit her lip. “A son, Arthur!” she rested her hand on his forearm without taking her eyes from their newborn. “Our little baby boy.”  
Arthur watched the younger version of himself go ghost white and take a step back.  
“He’s on the outside now!” he said, lifting a hand to the back of his own head. “Ain't any way we can put ‘im back in, is there?”  
“Quit talkin' like that!” Addie snapped at him as she snipped the umbilical cord.  
“Arthur! Don’t say that, please!” Eliza whimpered.  
“I’m sorry, I’m a moron,” he whined, “I’m just messin' around! But he— It happened!” he pointed. “It happened, and he’s here!”  
“’Course it happened!” Addie laughed, wiping their son down. “What, did you think it wasn’t gonna?”  
“No, it just…”  
“Big, tough man, and there you are, scared shitless where you stand,” Addie smirked bitterly and shook her head. Placing their newborn son on a soft clean cloth, she brought him to Eliza and gently laid him in her arms as he continued to bleat and cry. “He needs skin to skin, dearie. To know you love him and you’re with him.”  
“Oh, sweet Lord,” Eliza breathed, her brows crinkling together, her eyes filling with amazement and pure adoration. She quickly pulled the bodice of her chemise down to expose the top of her chest and brought Isaac to rest against her bare skin. As she did, his breathing gradually smoothed, and his wailing softened.  
Addie straightened and smiled at the image. But after a few moments, she turned and stepped towards Arthur.  
“Listen to me,” she whispered, her tone caustic. “This moment, what you do in this moment, is one of the most important things in your life. She needs you right now. She’s a ragged ball of nerves and stress, much worse than you. By miles. She just gave birth to _your son_.”  
“My son! Oh, _god!_ ” he looked up with wide eyes and ran a hand back through his hair. “I’m a _pa?!_ I—I don’t know if I can do this. This is crazy. This downright, doggone, off-the-map crazy. I can’t have a kid! You know who I am?!” He eyed Addie and paused. “Well, you don’t. But you do!” he looked past her at his fiancé. “Eliza, you know just who I am! I’m gonna screw him up, hun! I’m gonna mess him up!”  
“Arthur,” Eliza said firmly. “Would you shut up and please come look at him? Come here.”  
When he locked eyes with her, her unrelenting gaze slowly pulled him towards her like a lasso. But nonetheless, his steps were that of a timid and uncertain poor soul. All that was missing was a hat in his hands.  
He gently sat beside her on the cot, looking down at his newborn son for the first time.

“Le Practicante,” Freddie Hultana  
(Isaac’s song)  
<https://youtu.be/W-zmGO36pb4>

When the air grew still and quiet, Addie smiled and took her leave of the room.  
As Arthur stood to the side watching the intimate, peaceful scene of the three of them, he was filled with a sinking dread that he’d wake up from this at some point.  
As he watched his own expression shift and change, he remembered everything he’d felt at that moment, when he’d first seen his son. That he’d been filled—overwhelmed and overtaken—with enrapturing love. Too big to grasp, too deep and beautiful and mysterious to have edges. A love that called to attention and demanded eager and ardent self-sacrifice. A love that somehow carried with it equal measures of unbridled, airy giddiness and heavy weight. Somehow nailed to the beams of a parent’s life both an assured unworthiness and a boundless, indescribable gratefulness.  
He saw that same awe, now, all across his own young face. He watched him bring a finger up and gently run it over the pale golden fuzz on the side of his new son’s pink temple down to his cheek.  
Eliza was there, noting everything that was flitting across the face and in the eyes of this new father. Bless her, she’d only held her new son a handful of minutes, yet she shifted to place Isaac in Arthur’s arms.  
And he looked down and watched him stretch and blink and fidget. His tiny fingers were pruny, and the insides of his little lips were a bit puffy, like they’d been wet for too long. When he yawned, he showed off his tiny toothless gums, and Arthur let out an airy chuckle.  
“Isaac,” he breathed as he smiled up at Eliza.  
She was quite obviously equally smitten and wholly overtaken with adoration for the new life they’d made together.  
As Arthur looked back down at their son, she kept her hazy eyes on her fiancé, a warm, rosy grin growing on her mouth.  
“I love you, Arthur,” she whispered. Though they were alone in the room, it was made even more intimate by the fact that she’d made it just loud enough for him to hear.  
But he had heard it.  
Arthur watched his younger self hesitantly look up at her. His eyes were steadily held by hers, but his mouth was beginning to hang ajar—wordless.  
**“Oh, no,”** Arthur said, his tone gradually rising until he was thundering. **“Don’t you dare. This is _my_ dream. You say it! Say it!”**  
He watched him squirm inside, his eyes darting back and forth between hers, as the look in hers slowly began to deflate.  
**“Don’t you dare waste this! You _owe_ her this much. Just say it!”**  
But his younger self just sat there, only stunted, breathy syllables escaping him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dearest readers (those who are still here 😬😅)!
> 
> If you are reading this and you've made it this far through at least one of the previous works in this series, congratulations! I think it's safe to say you are a passenger with me aboard this nonexistent ship. 🤗🚢 It’s a tough journey to be aboard a nonexistent ship, and this one in particular is extremely rocky. But we'll get through it together. 💙
> 
> This dream of Arthur’s will be continued in the next chapter. And it'll be one of my favorite chapters. 🥰
> 
> Would you mind if we do a wee experiment? At this the third work in the series, I'm very interested to know whether anyone who's still here has followed from the other works. Also, I've noticed over the past year that it seems a large percentage of my readers are guests. So I'm interested to kinda "put faces to names," as it were--Ao3 style!
> 
> No matter if you have an account or are a guest, and no matter when you read this, please feel free to comment. And if you're normally too shy or busy to comment, I hope this makes it easier.
> 
> \- If you've read at least Part 2 of "Disaster Road," comment: D  
> \- If you've read "Only Fools Hold onto Hope," comment: O  
>   
> If this works, it could make my whole month. It would help me know my hard work in time and tears has been worth something. Especially after the lack of response to the way "Only Fools" ended, I've been struggling to know whether I should continue.
> 
> But if this is a stupid middle-school-esque thing, please ignore it! And if I'm not really talking to anyone right now, I understand that too.
> 
> Love to all,  
> Rosie


	8. Chapter 8

That night they moved Eliza from the cot to the room's clean bed against the wall. And that next day, after Eliza had drifted off and had been asleep for quite a while, they set Isaac in his bassinet beside her and left the room to give them both some peace and quiet.  
Addie took the porcelain bowl of water, muddied with blood, into the kitchen, and Arthur's younger self followed her.  
From where Arthur himself stood, he could see both rooms—he could straddle the wall and keep an eye on Eliza and Isaac, as if the wall meant nothing for him. And just then it seemed Eliza had awoken and was coming to the bedroom door, when she heard the pair talking and stopped to listen.  
Addie set to work and dumped the water outside through the front door, going back to the sink to scrub it as Arthur’s younger self took a seat at the kitchen table.  
“A more unequally yoked pair, I never have seen, the two of ya,” Addie said without looking at him as she washed the basin. “You can’t even bring yourself to say aloud whether you love her.”  
“Oh, so…she’s told you,” he said, hunching over and rubbing his fingers hard against his forehead.  
“I’m like a ma to her since hers passed. Yeah, she's told me. It hurts her. Hurts her deep. But for some dadgum reason, it don’t make a lick a’ difference for her. She loves you. God bless her, she sees somethin' in you that I just can’t.”  
“Maybe that’s why I need her.”  
“Ah, so it’s about you.”  
“That ain’t what I meant—”  
“You’re broken. You know it, and I know it.” She looked up and caught him by the eyes before looking back down. “You saw somethin' you wanted. You hadn’t known her two hours, and you knocked her up.”  
“But it weren’t like I abandoned her. We actually…were sweet on each other for a while after that.”  
“Hot n' heavy ain’t the same as sweet.”  
“But we were! Sweet, I mean. Are…” He rubbed his neck. “Then when she missed her monthly, we found out she’d been pregnant the whole time…”  
“Yup. From day one.”  
He sighed. “I know she deserves better. And I know I don’t deserve her. Trust me, you don’t have to tell me. But, hell—ain’t that just the way a lover's s’posed to feel?”  
Arthur watched Eliza’s hopeful expression as she listened.  
“I wanna do right by her. By both of them. Really do right. Since I found out she was pregnant, that’s been my idea.”  
“Forgive me if I don’t want a pity marriage for her.”  
“Nah, it ain’t like that either!” he looked up at her, his brows in a frustrated twist. “She and I had a long talk when she first told me she was pregnant. We’d had quite a few before, and we’ve had many since. I told her I wanted to do this—stick around, be around for her and the babe. And she was surprised and excited, but she made sure I knew…it weren’t gonna be all easy and nice. And I know that. It’s life. What part of it is? But it’s worth it to me. To us.”  
He glanced at her, then grumbled as he looked down and shook his head. “You want me to tuck tail and run. Well, you ain’t the only one.” He sighed. “But I won’t do it. I always wanted a family of my own. Never thought it would happen to me. Now I’ve got one, I’ll be damned if I let it get away.”  
As he looked down, he held his left hand with his right, his palm facing upward, and thumbed the wedding ring on his finger, watching it glow in the daylight from the window of Addie’s small house. The Celtic knot engraving sat in sharp contrast to the solid gold.  
“That’s my wife and son in there,” he said without looking up. He was quiet, each word weighed and measured with intention. “It’s like she said: that’s all there is to it.”  
Eliza looked down and closed her eyes, taking in his words, letting them soak in.  
When she heard his chair legs scrape the floor, she turned in a flurry and scurried back to bed.  
But he was stopped before he ever reached the door, unknowingly just out of Eliza's earshot now.  
“She’s special,” Addie said.  
“I know that.”  
“More than that, she’s—”  
“Precious.”  
At that, Addie looked up and met his eyes.  
He smirked and nodded. “Believe me. I know.” He turned and faced the door. “They both are. And I feel like a desperately unworthy king,” he breathed. He looked down at his hand again, still clearly just as captured by his new ring, and everything it stood for, as he’d been the moment she’d first put it on him.  
He took a breath. “And just because you can’t say somethin’,” his tone was even steadier and clearer than before, “don’t make it not true.”  
Both Addie’s and Arthur’s eyes were glued to him as he pushed through the door and closed it behind him. Arthur followed him into the room and saw him smile at the sight of Eliza sitting up in bed.  
“Hey. You’re awake.”  
“Oh,” she grinned, “Isaac’s startin’ to fuss a bit,” she gestured meekly to the bassinet.  
He went and gently picked him up, holding his hand under his head as he brought him to her.  
She began to unbutton the collar and the box pleat of her nightgown. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get this right, Arthur,” she whispered a little whimper. “He hasn’t eaten yet, even once! Addie said it shoulda happened an hour after birth. But he didn’t latch. I’ve sat with him for ages, a few different times now. Poor thing, he must be starving. It just breaks my heart. Maybe he shoulda had a different mama.”  
“No, no, no…”  
“And I just feel so useless, and…”  
“Shh, don’t say that,” he whispered as he sat beside her on the bed and laid him in her arms. “You ain’t. You’re the strongest person I know.”  
She looked up at him and sniffled, “Thank you.” She shifted a bit against the pillow. “But Addie told me all these things, the ways you’re supposed to do it, to get it right. And I can hardly keep track of it all, and…”  
“Forget all that. Just do what feels right.”  
Her crinkled expression and half-smirk before looking down at Isaac said she didn’t have much confidence. She slowly brought her little finger past their tiny babe’s lips and gently rested the pad of her finger on the roof of his mouth until he was calm. She cradled him in her arms and brought him up close to her breast, holding her hand gently to the back of his neck.  
“I’m supposed to…wait until he’s got his mouth real big. Wide as a yawn, she said.”  
With his eyes closed, Isaac rolled his tongue and smacked his lips a bit. But he wasn’t opening up, and he wasn’t attaching.  
She looked up at Arthur with painfully drawn brows. “See?”  
But with his eyes still on Isaac, he’d begun smiling. “Well, golly, Eliza. I sure do.”  
She looked back down to see Isaac with his eyes closed suckling greedily, taking hasty breaths through his tiny button nose. She quickly looked back up at Arthur with bright eyes and a buoyant smile. “We’re doing it,” she breathed. Looking back down at Isaac and stroking the back of his head, she whispered again, “We’re doing it, baby.”  
In a matter of moments, her eyes had filled, and she glanced up at Arthur sheepishly. “Silly to cry,” she mumbled with a broken chuckle as a tear dripped down her cheek and she quickly wiped her nose with the back her hand.  
“Nah,” he grinned. “It ain’t.”  
She smiled in thanks. “I didn’t think I could love either of you more,” she whispered looking down at Isaac, “and then each moment passes.” She chuckled again, only able to fit the tip of her finger into his small hand. “Did you ever think a person could be so tiny?”  
“I’m havin’ trouble gettin’ a grasp on how he ever coulda been smaller, when he was growin' inside you, ya know.” He let out a single scoff. “I’m almost terrified I’ll break him somehow. Maybe just by breathin'.”  
“No, you won’t,” she smiled. “You don’t know how gentle you are.” She glanced up at him from the side of her eyes. “And _don’t_ say you’re a big, bumbling, dumb moron.” A smile began to edge the corner of her mouth. “I’m too tired to scold you so fiercely.”  
He grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”  
When a little mumbled chuckle arose from her, he couldn’t help but match it.  
He watched her trace the pad of her finger over the funny little wrinkles in Isaac’s forehead, across his eyebrow and down his temple to his soft cheek. Arthur came close and rested his forehead against her temple, and she closed her eyes. And the three of them sat there close, in the still and quiet for a few minutes, with only the sound of Isaac’s breathing as he nursed.  
Arthur finally drew away a bit and looked at her. “Hey. You all right?”  
“Sure, I’m okay. Why?”  
“You kinda…gave us a scare there.”  
“Really?”  
“Mm.”  
“Oh… I’m just…real sore and exhausted, is all.”  
“I’m sorry,” he brushed some stray hair back from her forehead. “Well, you think in about a week's time you’ll be able to stand for a while?” He looked down and mumbled almost to himself. “For… How long they usually take? I ain’t ever been to one. Fifteen, twenty minutes…?”  
“Yes,” she said clearly and promptly, causing him to look up. “Y-yes, I’ll be able to stand.”  
When he saw the latent eager look in her eyes, he had to release an airy chuckle, which caused her to smile in turn. “All right. Saturday it is then.”  
They looked into each other’s eyes, and he came close and pressed his lips gently against hers. They kissed each other back and forth a few times, and it was all so gentle and feather-soft, with the light smacking sounds filling their ears.  
She suddenly let out a groan that rumbled up from deep in her throat and sounded like the result of pain, and he pulled away and looked at her.  
“My body reacting,” she mumbled meekly, her brows drawing up in near embarrassment as she brought her forearm across her lower abdomen and rubbed. “Addie said my womb shrinking back to normal size could take a few days, and the cramps may get pretty severe.”  
“Agh, _god!_ ” he looked up in empathy and exasperation. “Will it ever end for ya?”  
She bit her lower lip and mumbled a plaintive chuckle before looking down at Isaac, who’d had his fill and whose eyelids were beginning to slink up and down.  
“I suspect not,” she whispered, softly stroking the back of his head before bringing him to her right shoulder to burp him. “With a mother’s heart in this world?”  
“Well. You won’t be alone.”  
She patted Isaac gently on the back, and it wasn’t long before he’d spat up and was cleaned and down in her lap on her arms again, drifting off to contented sleep.  
She looked over at Arthur to her left and let her head rest back on the pile of pillows behind her.  
“I want to thank you,” she whispered low, her chin trembling a little, “for standin’ by me, when things get hard.” She brought her left hand up from under Isaac’s back and lifted it up to Arthur’s temple, letting her fingertips sink back into his hairline as he matched the tilt of her head with his. “You’re so…kind and patient with me.”  
He smirked and huffed a little breath through his nose. “Kind and patient,” he gently shook his head.  
Arthur shook his head with him. **“Only you would ever call me such things.”**  
“I think you got me confused with the mirror,” he said. “‘S more your brand, hun. ‘Sides. Weren’t no way for me to react, when I saw him.”  
“You loved him. You were just afraid for him. But when you really saw him, all you felt was love.” She let out a long sigh. “You don’t need to be afraid, Arthur. You’ll be a _great_ father. Already are. You can’t fail at it. Just be here, and be you.”  
As Arthur stood watching from the side, he watched the expression on his young face smooth and relax in peace and comfort as his eyes roamed over her face and his breathing came easy.  
Continuing to watch, he hung his head. He finally brought his hand up, pressed the heel of it against his forehead, and rubbed hard with a weak, pained groan. **“Was she always so…wise and…compassionate?”** He jammed his hand against his forehead a couple times. **“My god. All the time I wasted…”**  
That evening, though still in her nightgown, Eliza ventured out into the kitchen to eat supper with them. Arthur carefully held Isaac in his arms and watched gratefully as she scarfed down a bowl of Addie’s hearty stew.  
And as they all sat before the fireplace afterwards, Eliza lifted her head from his shoulder.  
“I better make myself up a bath, before I nod off again,” she chuckled as she got up.  
As she went to the bedroom door, he got up and followed her, with Isaac still in his arms.  
“You need help?” he asked with sincerity. “I could…”  
“No thank you,” she said simply as she went into the room and began to close the door.  
“You sure?”  
“Yes, I’m all right, thank you.”  
“Well, sweetheart. I know you’re real exhausted. I could help—”  
“Arthur.” The name was so quiet, it had almost been softened and smoothed completely of any hard attributes to the ear.  
When he looked into her deep eyes as she continued to close the door so that only her face still showed, she gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head and a couple broken mumbled syllables, close to, “Mm…mm-mm.”  
When she’d finally closed it, he was left standing there with the babe in his arms. He looked back at Addie where she sat in a chair by the fire.  
“She all right?”  
“She’s fine. Probably just a bit skittish. But she’ll be okay.”  
“About what?”  
The old woman glanced at him and sighed with a smirk, shaking her head. “If you don’t know, I can’t tell you.”  
He looked back at the door in concern before beginning to walk around the kitchen table, gently patting Isaac’s bottom as he stirred.  
“Next time, I want you to take the lead, Arthur,” Addie said as she kept her eyes on the fire.  
“Next time?”  
She nodded. “With you two, the way ya are, hell-bent on bein' so smitten as ya are, I’m sure you’ll have more.”  
When he took her meaning, he glanced away, grinned, and nodded.  
“And I won’t always be around. So though I plan to be there for the next one, I want you to be studied up from every angle, prepared to take the lead. As if I ain’t there. So that you won’t need me again.” She looked at him. “No more squeamishness.”  
He huffed a little laugh. “All right. Got yourself a deal.”  
A few minutes later the bedroom door cracked open again.  
“Addie,” Eliza called.  
She immediately got up, and he forlornly watched her walk past him into the room.  
“I’m still bleeding,” he heard Eliza say quietly before the door was all the way closed.  
His brows came together slightly in concern as he inclined his ear to the door.  
“ _Oh, it’ll be a while yet, honey. When you got into the water, you mean, it scared you a bit?_ ”  
He imagined her nod.  
“ _All right. Not to worry, dear. Here, let me help you_.”  
He looked down at Isaac and stroked the back of his little head. “Think your mama's all right?”  
Isaac only yawned and drifted further into slumber.  
“Guess I…don’t quite have the right yet to wanna be the one in there,” he glanced at the door before looking down at Isaac again. “Don’t mean I don’t.”  
**“Ugh-huh,”** Arthur whined a sigh with a smirk as he watched himself. **“You’re so long gone, buddy.”**  
A few days later found Arthur in his full cowboy getup and hat taking a seat beside Eliza at the fireplace while she nursed Isaac.  
“I don’t wanna leave you,” was the first quiet thing out of his mouth. “And I swear to you, this’ll be the last time. When you see me next, on Saturday, it’ll be the first day things’re really different.” He watched her begin to grin. “It’s all set up, I talked to the preacher,” he smiled. “Addie knows where to take you, and what time.” He glanced down. “But I have to tell—”  
“I know,” she said quietly.  
He looked back up at her. “They deserve an explanation, and a goodbye, at the very least.”  
She nodded. “I understand.” She shifted in the chair and took a breath, letting it out through her nose as she looked him in the eyes. “Just…don’t let him demean you, Arthur. Or try to convince you that you owe him anything.”  
He watched her throat move when she swallowed as the glow from the crackling fire played across her skin.  
“And when he tells you you’re an outlaw and makes you feel that’s all you deserve,” she looked down at Isaac and cupped her hand beneath his head, “tell him you’re a husband and a father. Tell him you’re loved.” She looked back up with a chuckle. “Or maybe tell him nothing. But at least tell yourself that.”  
He nodded and gulped. “Wish me luck.”  
“You won’t need it,” she said. “You’re the strongest person I know.”  
He matched her soft smirk.  
“And you have something else I don’t.”  
He followed her glance down to his hip and saw the shining metal of his pistol.  
“If things go sour.”  
He slowly lifted his eyes up to her again. “He wouldn’t.”  
“Just make sure you come back to us, is all.”  
He leaned forward for her mouth. “Oh, you’ll see me standin’ beside that preacher, darlin’.”  
“Mmmm…” she mumbled between kisses. “Hurry up, Saturday.” When he stood, she looked up at him and quietly added, “Maybe you’ll be an example, for the others.”  
He looked down at Isaac and gently stroked his arm until his fingertip was resting atop his tiny little hand. “Maybe.” He glanced at her from the side of his eyes with a grin. “It’s a nice word.”

And with that, Arthur was swiftly swept away to Saturday itself, into Addie’s and Eliza’s bedroom, as they prepared.  
Eliza was dressed in a gown that was near white, a little closer to cream. Simple. A small slit at the nape of the bodice, its sleeves coming down only just before the elbow. Nothing more than a seam just beneath the breasts to act as a high waist. A long skirt that flowed just a little with no gathering or pleats.  
It was then that he realized she was wearing the delicate heirloom gown, handed down to her from generations past, that he’d stumbled across in the chest at the foot of her bed, those years ago. Only now, it wasn’t folded in his hands. It was alive again, filled with his dear Eliza as she stood barefoot before the full-length oval standing mirror.  
As his eyes traveled up her form, he knew she didn’t need any added embellishments—no frills or lace or beads. The simple gown propelled forward all her natural beauty, as if a masterpiece set in a frame.   
Her soft golden hair was pinned up into a loose bun at the nape of her neck, her stray strands still managing to escape. And she was tucking dainty wildflowers into it here and there.  
Not just his heart, but his entire chest seemed to moan and creak and groan for her like the bows of a stranded ship, almost involuntarily launching him forward towards her.  
**“Eliza, you look… _Jesus_ …”** With wide eyes, his hand quickly went up, and he narrowly missed smacking his own forehead as he ran his fingers back through his hair.  
He noticed the buttons on the back of her dress still undone, leaving the material hanging loose and open, giving him a full view of her beautiful back, looking as soft and smooth as ever. He came close and slowly slipped a hand past the fabric, anticipating the warmth of her supple skin. But he was let down again by his hand passing straight through her like a mist.  
His brows pinched up, and he let out a loud, pained, whining moan. **“ _Oh_ …this just ain’t fair.”**  
“Are you sure there wasn’t anyone I could ask for you, to come today?” Addie said as she swayed with Isaac in her arms.  
“I thought about invitin’ the girls from the boarding house,” Eliza said as she added another flower to her hair, “but…Arthur really doesn’t like…hangin' round folk he don’t know.”  
Addie eyed her and hesitantly opened her mouth. “I…hate to say it, Eliza dear, but I feel it must be said once: how can you be sure he ain’t marryin' ya just because of Isaac?”  
With her back still towards her, Eliza almost froze. Her expression slowly grew heavy, the corners of her mouth falling, and her eyes sagging. Arthur could even see how painful it looked for her to swallow as she slowly turned towards Addie.  
**“No, no, _no!_ God _damn_ you, woman!”** he thrashed and shouted.  
“Oh, honey…” Addie tisked. “I never wanted to hurt you, especially on such a day. Forgive me. Please, forget I said anyth—"  
“Don’t you think I’ve thought of that?” Her voice was airy and shaky, her gaze glued to the floor. “It’s my punishment, for doin’ things out of order—always havin’ to wonder.” She sniffed. “You know how hard it’s been, how much work it’s taken for us to get this close?” She glanced up at her and tried to chuckle. “Arthur don’t trust, Addie. Hardly at all. And for good reason.” Her chin began to tremble. “He’s had a lot of hard things happen to him. Real hard things.”  
She took a breath to steady herself. “All I want is that man’s love. And I’ll never know unless he tells me. Maybe he’ll never so much as whisper a word about love.”  
“Then why’re you prepared to marry somebody you think you might only get so much from?”  
“Because I really believe it ain’t like that, Addie. I choose to believe I mean more to him than nothing.” She nodded to herself. “Maybe it is a feeble, fool's hope. But it’s all I’ve got.”  
She fingered one of the velvety petals of a wildflower in her hands, a grin growing on her mouth. “We understand each other, Arthur and I. As crazy as that sounds. We’re everything the other ain’t. And I really do believe we’re good for each other. He makes me bold, and I…I bring forward his gentleness.” She looked over at her. “We’ll both do anything, give anything for our family. One thing I know is he’ll stand by me and Isaac. He won’t waver.”  
As the atmosphere stilled, her smile softened. “I love him, Addie.” Her eyes filled, and her smiled widened as she sniffed. “So you see, it’s in the name of love. It’s all in the name of love.”  
She reached out a hand for hers. “Be glad for me, Addie. It is my wedding day, after all. And mama and papa…aren’t here.” Her chin trembled again. “You’ll have to be both ma and pa to me for the next half hour,” she said softly, smiling as a single tear escaped, and she quickly wiped it away.  
When Arthur blinked, he was immediately inside a little church. No one but his younger self and the town pastor were there, standing side by side to his left at the altar.  
Arthur glanced again at himself where he stood with one hand neatly holding the other. Hair pomaded back, scruff eliminated completely, a clean white shirt, black suit jacket with navy satin lapels and puff tie, a baby blue satin vest, complete with fancy-looking pants ironed to the darts down each leg and glistening wingtip shoes.  
**“Damn, boy,”** he guffawed. **“You clean up.”**  
“So who'll be in attendance today?” the pastor asked.  
“Oh, just my bride, her midwife, and our…s-son…” he added, going quiet.  
The pastor nodded. “Well, you’ve gotta have two witnesses of adult age ‘sides me, for legal purposes. Willin’ to sign your marriage certificate, you understand.”  
Clearly beginning to realize he needed one more person to act as witness besides Addie, Arthur rushed in all haste out the front doors to the street, still in his suit jacket and satin vest. When he spotted a young street sweeper, he hollered to him.  
“Hey. Kid.”  
The sweeper looked up at him.  
“Uh-huh. You. How old are ya?”  
“Eighteen. Why?”  
“Can you sign your mark?”  
“Sure. Why, mister?”  
“Perfect. Come on inside with me,” he said with his arm out. “I need you to use you your signin’ abilities today. Pay ya twenty bucks.”  
“Twenty bucks!” he said, dropping his broom with a stuttering clap to the ground. “W-where do I sign?”  
He smirked and nearly snickered as he brought his hand to his back, and they began to walk inside. “What’s yer name, kid?”  
“Billy. Billy Wakefield.”  
“Well, Billy Wakefield, today you’re gonna sign that nice, long name a’ yers to the bottom of my marriage certificate to a real fine lady, testifyin’ that you saw it happen, and you’ll see more money at the end of it than you would after a full month a’ sweepin’. Deal?”  
The kid nodded profusely as they entered the church.  
“Just sit right there, and be sure to, uh…witness,” Arthur gestured to a back pew before going up to the front. “Satisfy?” he said to the pastor as he resumed his place beside him.  
“Yes,” he smiled. “Good mornin’, Billy.”  
“Mornin’, Reverend McPhee, sir,” he called.  
“Look forward to seein’ you and your ma and pa in church tomorrow.”  
“Yes, sir. We’ll be there.”  
A few minutes later the front doors of the church cracked open with a stream of light, and Eliza walked through with a little bouquet in her hand, Addie tailing her with Isaac in her arms.

“Satisfied,” performed by Andy Leftwich  
<https://youtu.be/lK1LXscisKM>

His eyes immediately grew wide at the sight of her, and as he watched her walk towards him, his hand shot up to his forehead and ran back through his hair, making a mess of his job with the pomade.  
“ _Jesus_ …” When he caught sight of the pastor’s stern and grave look, he quickly and seamlessly added, “ _sss_ …is so good to me. So, so good to me.”  
The pastor squinted and half-smirked at him.  
Eliza appeared before him and ran her fingers under the folds of his collar and her hands down over the lapels of his suit jacket. “Look at you,” she breathed and bit her lip, beaming. She noticed his hair and quickly reached up to smooth it. “My, if you don’t clean up.”  
But his eyes were glued to her. “Eliza, you’re…you’re…”  
“Exquisite,” the pastor chimed in, finishing for him.  
He nodded with an airy laugh, “Thank you.” And he was right. ‘Stunningly beautiful’ fell woefully short.

[Credit to @myrthena]

He took her hand in his. “You wanted a church.”  
She nodded and brought her index finger up and ran the side of it down his cheek, and ran her thumb along his chin. With her hand still in his, she took her place across from him before the pastor, though they never took their eyes off each other.  
“Hurry up, reverend. Before he changes his _mind_ ,” she said with a bright smile.  
Arthur grinned. “You just take your time, reverend.”  
The pastor opened the Bible in his hands and cleared his throat.  
“As the Good Book says, ‘Therefore a man shall leave his father and mother, and shall cleave to his wife, and they two shall be one flesh.’ Marriage is a holy, sacred covenant, not to be entered lightly. Meant to reflect the Lord God’s complete union with his people—an intimate celebration of love, in all compassion and grace. Meant to glorify him, and bring joy and peace to our souls. May you save yourselves completely and totally for one another, forsaking all others in body and in heart.”  
The sounds of Isaac’s fussing and crying suddenly began to arise, and though Eliza glanced over in their direction and fidgeted, they did their best to continue over the squeaky noise.  
“May you…” the pastor continued, “may you commit and endeavor to honor each other…”  
But Isaac’s crying had grown too loud.  
“I’ll…I’ll just be a moment,” she begged pardon, and rushed to their son, taking him from Addie, turning away towards the wall, and lowering her bodice to nurse him.  
When nothing but the sound of Isaac’s quiet suckling filled the church, Arthur looked back at the pastor with a small, sheepish grin. “Sorry.”  
The pastor smiled and lifted a hand. “I completely understand. No apology necessary.”  
When she was finished feeding him, Eliza closed her bodice, and rested Isaac back in Addie’s arms again.  
“Remember,” Addie began, gesturing to her own chest, “you gotta do the other side too, to relieve pressure, like I told ya.”  
“I know, but I hardly have time at the moment, Addie,” Eliza whispered as she picked up her little bouquet of wildflowers and rushed back to her place with a smile.  
“All right, ready again.”  
“Shall I…repeat any parts?” the pastor asked.  
“Oh, I remember everything,” she said, looking at Arthur.  
“I do too, actually,” Arthur said.  
The pastor nodded and picked up where he’d left off. “May you commit and endeavor to honor each other, each thinking foremost of the other. May you truly sustain and be a comfort to each other. May you bear one another up, remaining patient, steadfast, and faithful in illness and in health, in meagerness and in plenty, until death parts you. At this time, if anyone has objections, they should speak now, or—”  
“Oh. Wait,” Eliza said, and Arthur turned to look at her. “Wait, I…”  
Arthur’s heart thumbed wildly in his chest as he watched her slender fingers pull a little paper from the tie of her bouquet and unfold it with trembling hands.  
She looked up and back and forth between Arthur and the pastor. “I hope it wouldn’t be too silly if I…” she swallowed, trying to keep her eyes from filling, “if I said something?”  
Arthur shook his head. “But I didn’t…”  
“It’s okay,” she smiled and nodded, glancing into his eyes before looking down at the paper. When she spoke again, her voice trembled even worse than her fingers.  
“To my dearest Arthur on our wedding day.” She nodded and swallowed, keeping her eyes plastered down to the paper and taking a deep breath, steadying her resolve.  
“Though I’m certain you do not know what a precious gift you are, I’m in awe of just how blessed I am to become your wife.” She rocked on the balls of her feet and gnawed her bottom lip for a moment out of nerves. “You are kind and thoughtful and gentle. You make me feel safe and at rest. You love our son with all your heart. You’re the best man I have ever known. Truth is, I know how much God loves me because he gave me you. I want to be your home too, the place you find joy and feel safe. I pray that I will be able to show you that joy, that I will be able to make you…” she took an unsteady breath, “as happy as you make me.”  
“I want to take care of you, in every way I possibly can,” she continued. “I know there will be tough days, but this I swear to you now, Arthur Morgan: that I will never give up, that I will choose each day, each moment, to love you with all my heart, no matter what. All I want is to be part of you and for you to be part of me. I know that whatever comes in life, we’ll be able to get through it together.” She sniffed as the paper crinkled between her fingers. “You are truly my heart’s desire, and my soul’s delight.”  
She finally folded the paper again and looked up to see both Arthur and the pastor staring at her with wide eyes.  
Arthur himself was at a loss for words where he stood watching, his mouth hanging agape.  
Still blinking from being frozen stiff and with his eyes still on her, his younger self cleared his throat. “Let’s get a move on, reverend,” he said, hoping to nudge him towards haste verbally. But his throat was so dry, he could only manage it hoarsely and quietly. He swallowed. “Hurry it up. Quick, now. Let’s go.”  
The pastor blinked and looked down, closing his Bible and tucking it under his arm as Arthur smiled softly at her and took her hand.  
“Y-you already have rings?” the pastor asked.  
“Oh, yes,” Eliza volunteered. “Yes, we’ve got ‘em on already.”  
“You take this man to be your husband?”  
“Yes.”  
“And you take this woman to be your wife?”  
“Yes.”  
“Then by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife.”  
Eliza bounced on her tip-toes, threw her arms around his neck, and whispered, “I’m yours, and you’re mine.”  
“Yeah…” he smiled, bringing his big hands to her back. “You’re stuck with me now, girl.”  
“Forever? Promise?”  
He chuckled. “I think we just did.”  
She drew back with a bright smile, looked into his eyes, and brought her hand to rest at the back of his head while his rested on her waist. And they leaned in to kiss each other, the soft smack of their kiss reverberating about the four walls of the small church.  
She took a breath as he rested his forehead to hers. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile as big as you did just then,” she whispered, “before I hugged you.”  
As he pulled away, he grinned and brushed her hair away from her eyes, letting his gaze wade over her face. “’Cause I…” he smirked and nodded, “’cause I’m finally honorin’ ya, the way you should be.”  
He watched her blissful, soft smile grow. “I was thinkin’, in a couple months, after you’re all healed and rested up, we’d head up the mountain.” he said quietly, for only her to hear. “There’s a little cabin I know of, with quite a view. Won’t be much of a honeymoon, with a baby around, but—”  
“It sounds perfect,” she beamed, bouncing on the balls of her feet again.  
And when Arthur woke to the cold morning chill, he lied there still for a few minutes, aching and stinging and willing the world around him to be the dream instead.

* * *

“I hope I'm in your dreams  
The way you are in all of my mine.  
You got a love so fine.  
I wish that I could make you mine.

Won't you sit down, you know I love you, honey,  
And you look so tired.  
I know it's hard, we're thrown into this life  
And one day we must die.

But that river will flow on  
Even after we're all long gone.  
Yes, that river will flow on.  
Won't you take me with you before I'm one?

Then I walk into the room and there you sit,  
There you sit and you're so lonely and quiet.  
Well I can't help but stare.  
Oh I love you, and it just ain't fair.

But that river will flow on  
Even after we're all long gone.  
Yes, that river will flow on.  
Won't you take me with you before I'm one?”

\- Sierra Ferrell, “In Dreams”  
<https://youtu.be/6fPqmceCf90?t=12>

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dearest readers,  
> I need to say a most heartfelt and sincere thanks to those of you who commented last week to let me know you're here and to lend me some encouragement. It meant so much to me! It seems there are about 6 or 7? of you who've read and are still following along, which is extremely exciting! I realize mine is a tiny little corner of the fanfic world, but it means the absolute world to me. And I'm so very grateful and glad to have each of you here.
> 
> As far as this chapter: I just couldn't not. 🥺🥰🥰🥰🙏💗💘💓💕💞 I really really hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> Love to all, and a very happy Thanksgiving to my American friends.
> 
> \- Rosie


	9. Chapter 9

When Arthur next slept, his dreams took him into Addie’s bedroom again one morning. His younger self was lying on his back in his long johns with Eliza asleep in her nightgown and Isaac asleep in the bassinet near the bed. Eliza’s cheek was resting peacefully on his shoulder, her right arm draped across his chest, her hand up near his other shoulder.  
When he heard a little knock on the door, he said quietly, “Come in.” It was her room and her house, after all.  
Addie opened it and glanced at him.  
“They’re both fast asleep,” he whispered with a small grin in greeting as he brought his hand to Eliza’s forearm and gently stroked up and down.  
Addie silently went to the far end of the room and crouched near the foot of the bed to get something from her trunk, when Eliza began to rustle and wake.  
**“Oh—spoke too soon,”** Arthur said with a smile.  
“Good morning,” Eliza mumbled to him with a smile when she blinked open her eyes. “My week-long married man.” She immediately began to press soft kisses to his neck and started to slide her hand down his abdomen. “I know we can’t do much, but…I could give you a kiss in a certain special place, if you know what I—”  
He caught her wrist before it reached his groin. “Addie’s in the room, darlin'.”  
She froze, her mouth in a large, stiff ‘O’ as the sounds of Addie’s quick, staccato boot steps out of the room filled her ears.  
As she hurriedly closed the door behind her, Eliza stuffed her face into her pillow and groaned. “ _Arthur!_ ”  
He wheezed. “What’d you want me to do? You went all ‘married life’ on me before I could ever even say anything!”  
She turned toward him just enough so half of her face was showing and glared at him with one eye.  
He wheezed again. “You’re red as a tomato.”  
She shut her eyes tight and brought her hand up over her face with another growl.  
“Yeah, I know…” he mumbled. “It's high time I got us our own place.” He sighed. “Got my sights on a real nice one.”  
“Anything. I can hardly take much more a’ this.”  
“Well…you ain’t much gonna like how I get it.”  
She looked at him. “What do you mean? You put robbin’ behind you.”  
“No, I know…” he nodded. “I meant, pay ‘em loads outright.”  
She shifted onto her side. “W…what’s so wrong with that?”  
“Well…” he sighed, letting his eyes slowly float up to hers. “It’s still stolen money.”  
“Oh,” she said quietly.  
“Guess I was right… Thought you might have apprehensions about…startin’ an’ buildin’ our family on secrets an’ lies.”  
She looked down and spoke slowly, “I guess it would be for the best if we…gave it away. Like Zacchaeus.”  
“Who?” he squinted.  
“A tax collector in the Bible. He stole. But when he was met with mercy and grace, he was so overjoyed that he gave away many times what he stole.”  
Looking up at the ceiling, he sighed with his mouth mostly closed, which caused his cheeks to puff up with air, and ran a hand over his face. “I don’t even have that kinda money.” He looked at her again. “And what I got, I intend to use to take care a' my family.”  
She rested a hand on his chest. “Surely…surely God wouldn’t begrudge us a new start,” she said hastily. “We’re makin’ things right, both of us. And Isaac’s gonna need a place, room to grow.” She looked down and absentmindedly picked at one of the buttons of his long johns. “He can’t be cooped up here. And we can’t prey on Addie’s hospitality any longer. That ain’t right either.”  
He nodded. “I’ll go by and make my offer today. It’s enough that I don’t see ‘em turnin’ it down.”  
She cuddled up close and rested her cheek on his chest. “ _Oof_ …” she moaned with a roll of her eyes, “they never tell you what horrible, hard decisions you get to face in adulthood.” She was glad when his chest rattled with a sardonic chuckle. She smiled and brought her hand to rest on the other side of his chest near her face. “I’m sure whatever place you’ve picked is beautiful.”  
He rested his hand atop hers. “And in about a couple months, we’ll be honeymoonin'.”  
She grinned brightly.  
From where he stood watching, Arthur blinked and was suddenly standing outside with the three of them—himself and Eliza holding Isaac. They were looking at a homestead, and his own eyes widened when he realized it was the same one they’d lived in, in reality.  
**“Deer Head Ranch,”** he breathed. **“No, you’ve gotta be kiddin’ me, no. Not here.”**  
“A tradition's a tradition,” his younger self said with a grin as he scooped her up into his arms while she held Isaac in hers, and they made a sort of Russian doll for a few moments. She squealed a bit, and he carried them over the threshold.  
When he set her down on her feet inside, she looked around. “It’s still got all the furnishings.”  
“Paid ‘em extra. Figured we could use the head start. It’s good and livin’ ready.” He watched her slowly walk around and pop her head into each room. “Plenty a' room outside, too, for Isaac to run around as he grows. Lots of trees for him to climb into, scrape up his knees,” he chuckled. “A smokehouse, for when I catch us game. A corral, a barn, places for a garden and a chicken coop. We’ll get all set up.”  
**“No, no…”** Arthur moaned and clapped a hand onto each side of his head. It was all too close to reality. And he knew how that had ended. All too well.  
She looked back at him with a soft smile. “It’s wonderful. I can see us here for years to come.”  
“Yeah? Really?” his smile widened.  
“Really.”  
“You like it?”  
“I love it,” she chuckled.  
**“This is all wrong! Eliza, tell him! You can’t live here! Get yourselves up outta here!”**  
But she wrapped her free arm around her husband and kissed him when he rushed to her with a bright smile on his face.  
And in the matter of a moment, the scene changed. They were all in black, walking through a little graveyard behind the town church.  
With Isaac in her arms, Eliza stopped at a pair of headstones. And he came and stood beside her, holding his hat in his hands in front of him, in his demure and respectful way. He wore black dress pants, a black vest, and his only white dress shirt. And his hair was pomaded back.  
“Mama, Papa,” she said quietly. “This is Arthur. My husband.” Keeping one arm carefully around their baby, she reached for Arthur’s hand. “And this,” she looked down, “is Isaac, your grandbaby. We named him after you, Papa.” Her eyes were watering as she looked at the headstones. “They’re both the loves of my life.”  
He noticed a vein starting to show in her forehead as the breeze came and picked up her wisps of hair. And he rubbed his thumb gently along the back of her hand.  
She sniffed. “How I miss you both. And I wish you were still here. You’d love ‘em so, like I do. I know it.” She glanced at him as she wiped her cheek. “It’s the memories of them livin’. They were so wise and caring. Even funny as hell,” she chuckled through her tears. “Well, I…” she nodded as she looked back at the headstones, “I know you’re in a better place. Where there’s no illness, pain, or heartbreak.”  
He hung his head and watched her from the corner of his eyes. He knew from the way she could barely get the words out that she was a little overwhelmed with emotion.  
Swallowing, she finally turned to walk off back towards the wagon, leaving him standing before the two graves alone.  
He slowly looked up at them, fiddling with his wedding ring, and watching the long heather that sprang up nearby sway in the silent breeze.  
“Many thanks for the ring,” he gestured to her father’s grave. “Fits perfect. In more ways than one,” he smiled. As he looked at the headstones, stark and stiff as teeth where they jutted from the earth, he took a breath. “If she loved you, you musta been real fine,” he said. “And she thinks you’d like me…” he chuckled and shook his head a bit. “In reality, I’m probably lucky you ain’t around to keep her from me.”  
His expression slowly grew solemn. “I know you probably know…things I done. In the past. But… Well, I…” he shifted his weight in the dirt a bit, “even though I know I ain’t much more ‘an scum, I’m tryin’a be different for her. For them.” A bright smile overtook his face for a moment. “Somethin' about ‘em…makes me wanna be better. That baby, he’s…” he shook his head and looked up. “ _God_ , he’s heaven on earth. And she’s…well, she is too, but you know that,” he smirked.  
He looked down and fiddled with the edge of his hat. “She does somethin’ inside a' me. The way she’s somehow both…dainty and…the farthest thing from it. Real strong, in every way. A real go-getter,” he smiled. “I’m sure you knew that when you saw her run with the fastest of the boys, and climb up trees,” he chuckled, glancing at her mother’s headstone. “The way she finds reasons to smile and laugh, even when things are hard. She gives of herself, even when she’s tired. And she cares about things…little things. Like comin’ to see you two, when you ain’t even here. Most folk wouldn’t.”  
He looked down again. “Well, she finds hope and compassion in her heart,” he nodded. “She never gives up on me. And somehow, she’s wise beyond her years. I’m sure you both had a lot to do with that.” He swallowed and nodded. “You’d be so proud of her.”  
“And Isaac deserves a good pa. Well, he’s got me,” he rubbed his neck and chuckled nervously. “I can’t claim to’ve had a good example… Mine was worse ‘an piss-poor. Much worse. But I aim to do my very best, learn as I go. She’ll help me. And I know you probably think that…our lives'll be on the run. But it won’t. I swear to you. I’ve got us a nice place. And with everything I got in me, I wanna take care of ‘em. And I will. I promise.”  
He finally replaced his black hat atop his head and took the brim between his thumb and finger to tip it to them before walking back to rejoin her and Isaac in the wagon seat.  
And as Arthur watched, the scene blended into something else. It seemed to be about a couple months later—they’d already packed a bag and placed it in the back of the wagon. They’d lain Isaac in his bassinet, and they were off for their honeymoon trip. And his younger self took them up a nearby mountain, all in a matter of moments for Arthur himself.  
When they arrived at the little cabin, Eliza stepped off the wagon and took in the scenery from their high perch—the landscape of jagged mountain ranges, lush evergreen and oak forests, rivers and fields of wildflowers, stretching as far as she could see.  
“Makes me think a’ you,” his younger self said as he stood beside her with Isaac in his arms. “You two. Whenever I see such wonderful wilderness as this.”  
**“It still does,”** Arthur whispered, as he watched them from under his forlorn brows.  
She smiled up at him and reached out to take his hand in hers.  
That afternoon, after they’d settled into the cabin and after Eliza had let her yellow waves of hair down from their pins, he took her and the babe for a little walk. When they stopped at the edge of a little pond, he began to unbutton his coat and shirt and remove his clothes.  
“Arthur,” she chuckled with Isaac in his little thatched bassinet still in her arms. Her brows came together as she watched him. “What're you doin'?”  
“What’s it look like?” He continued to strip down completely and waded into the steaming water, turning and looking at her when he was waist deep. He held his arms out. “It’s a hot spring. Come on. In you go,” he smiled.  
“W…what about Isaac?”  
“Why you think I had you bring him in the bassinet?” he laughed.  
Still uncertain, she placed him in his bassinet down on the ground, making sure he was tucked cozily in his thick blankets before straightening to look at Arthur again.  
“Well come on,” he gestured with a smile. “I noticed your cheeks been so flush in this little chilly spell we been havin’ the past couple days. Thought you’d like a nice swim, warm up.”  
“Arthur, I…I’m not sure.”  
“What you mean?”  
“Well, I…I just…” she began to fidget. “I’m a lot different, since I got so big and…had Isaac.”  
He nodded with a chuckle. “I was there.”  
“I know.” She swallowed and looked down. “It’s just that…you haven’t really seen me, except for parts a’ me, like my shoulders while bathin'…for, what’s it been, ten months? The better part of a year, Arthur!”  
“You don’t have to remind me.”  
“Like I said, things on me are…a bit different. I’ve got these squiggly, silvery scars in places here,” she brought a palm to her midsection, “and my skin…” she swiped her hair away from her eyes nervously, “it’s… I ain’t certain it’s set back quite the same.”  
From where he stood a couple steps away, Arthur nodded with realization. **“‘Skittish…’”**  
“What, you think you’re some horrifyin’ monster?” he chuckled again.  
“No, I just…”  
“Did you think I’d never see you naked again?”  
“No.”  
“D’you think we’d be married and just never…make love?”  
“No.” She shook her head, bringing her arms around herself and looking down.  
“I…” his voice caught in his throat, and he could only whisper the rest. “I thought you’d like this,” he said as he moved tentatively towards her, the water now hitting his lower waist.  
“Arthur…” she closed her eyes for a few moments before opening them to look at him. “I’d hate it if you were to be… It would just crush me if I were to…”  
And he saw it in her eyes. _Disappoint you._  
“Aw, sweetheart.” His head sagged, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “Ain’t nothin’ I can say to make you sure of it, but that could never happen. I will never be disappointed with you,” he shook his head. “And I want you to know, you don’t have to. I ain’t goin’ anywhere, all right? No matter what.” He swallowed. “But—well…” he took a breath, feeling his chest tug towards her, and his brows drew up tight, “don’t you wanna feel my arms around you?”  
Her face crumpled, and she let her arms down at her sides. “More than anything.”  
“Honey…” he shook his head and briefly brought his hands out and let them drop. “I’m achin’ for you here.”  
She bit her lip and finally began to unbutton her frock, letting it slip to the ground around her feet.  
**“She always was a vision,”** Arthur said low as he watched her step out of the gown and into the water.  
She slowly waded towards his younger self where he stood waiting with a smile. And when she got to him, he wrapped her in his arms and kissed her cheek.  
“You’re a vision, you know that?” he whispered. “Had to practically pick myself up off the floor when I saw you walkin’ towards me that day in the church. And you still are. I ain’t seen nothin’ like you in all my livin’ life.”  
She pulled away and smiled up at him, her deep green eyes gleaming. And she brought her hand to his cheek as he leaned down and kissed her.  
“It’s so warm,” she said, sinking deep into the water.  
“Mm, I knew you’d like it. Come here,” he said with a smile when they drew apart. “Wanna show you somethin'. What it’s like to float. Ever done it?”  
“Ah…just like this,” she gestured to her treading legs with a laugh. “Is there another way?”  
“Nah, nah, I mean… Well, I guess it’s closer to flyin’. If humans could.”  
She cocked her head with crimped brows, causing him to chuckle.  
“Just come here.” He gently took her by the wrist and positioned her to tread water in front of him with her back to him. “Now take a big breath and hold it for a few moments.”  
As she did, her lower half began to rise closer to the top of the water.  
“Good, there you go. Now just let it out slowly, and relax.”  
As her body flattened out across the water’s surface, her vantage point shifted to the blue sky dotted with fluffy white clouds, and she gasped. “Arthur. It’s like I’m way up high.”  
“Mm-hm,” he grinned, bringing his left shoulder under her neck so her head could rest there. And with them hooked together like that, he could pull her slowly back through the water. As he did, he brought his hand up and threaded his fingers through hers, lowering his mouth down to her hear.  
“ _I’m dreamin’ now of Hallie, sweet Hallie…for the thought of her is one that never dies_ ,” he sang in a low whisper, grinning bright when he saw her smile.  
It was an up-tempo number from decades past, one that must’ve made it around every campfire in the American countryside since.  
“ _She’s sleepin’ in the valley…and the mockin’bird is singin’ where she lies,_ ” he continued to whisper as they drifted together, her watching the sky, and him watching her. “ _Listen to the mockin’bird… The mockin’bird is singin’ o’er her grave. Listen to the mockin’bird… Still singin’ where the weepin’ willows wave…_ ”  
And that evening, the three of them were reclined in the bed of the little cabin's one bedroom together, Isaac lying between them.  
“Isaac…mama loves you. Yes,” she whispered warmly with a grin.  
When Isaac looked at her to his left, his face relaxed into a big smile.  
“Ugh,” she clucked her tongue and whispered, “I love it when he smiles. Just fills your heart full.”  
“He’s doin’ it a lot these days. I love his little rolls of fat,” Arthur chuckled, tucking the tip of his finger into the crease of one on his thigh and gently pinching.  
“Who wouldn’t?” Eliza laughed. “They’re like dinner rolls! He’s good enough to take a bite right out of him.”  
“Can’t believe he’s two months already.” Lying on his side propped up on his elbow, Arthur took Isaac’s little foot and nibbled it gently between his lips, causing him to smile brightly, scrunch up his nose, and wave his little arm haphazardly, reeling from the tickle.  
And after nursing and being burped, he quickly began to drift off.   
Eliza stood and took him to the bassinet, tucking him snugly into the little wolf-skin blanket his father had fashioned for him. As his eyes blinked closed, she bent and kissed him. “ _Baby_ …” she whispered, as if the very word were precious as gold, the ‘ _ba_ ’ at the beginning its own shiny nugget.  
As she straightened, she stroked his cheek gently, wishing him the sweetest of dreams. And when she turned Arthur’s way, he was already unbuttoning his long johns. His expression was soft, but there was a heavy longing in his eyes. She started to slip off her own nightgown, but she paused and looked up at him again.  
“Arthur?”  
“Hm.”  
“I know it’s probably silly,” she whispered, “but...for our first time, as husband and wife, could we…could it be just us in the room? Just you and me?”  
He grinned softly and carried Isaac in his bassinet out of the room, laying it gently just outside the bedroom door.  
When he came back, she was already out of her nightgown, completely bare where she sat on the left edge of the bed, waiting for him in the moonlight.  
He removed his long johns the rest of the way and came to her. And she looked up at him with those deep eyes that always undid him from the inside out, eyes that quietly matched and reflected his own hunger and yearning.  
Glancing down and back up at him, she reached out and brought her hand around the side of his hip bone.  
As she did, he brought his left hand up to the side of her face, sinking his fingers back into her glossy golden hair. He brought his other hand up to rest on her jaw beneath her ear, gently shifting her face up to him and watching her eyes close for just a moment.  
When she opened them, he saw her just exactly as she was, in her glistening green eyes. She wasn’t a girl pretending to be a woman. She wasn’t a sinner pretending to be a saint. She wasn’t a person struggling to be a mother. In truth, she wasn’t ever those things.  
She was Eliza. And she was so much more than enough.  
Withdrawing her hand from around his hip and resting it atop the one he had in her hair, she brought his hand around closer to her face and pressed kisses into his palm.  
Each kiss there pulled him closer to her as he kneeled forward for her mouth. And they reclined back onto the bed, Eliza underneath him.  
When he positioned himself between her legs, she broke away from his mouth and took a breath. “Ge- _gently_ ,” she gasped. When he paused, she looked into his eyes and whispered, “I’m sorry!”  
“Don’t be,” he said, shaking his head.  
“I’m still a bit nervous about… That it’ll hurt. And that…” her cheeks flushed even rosier, “it won’t be the same for you.”  
“Ain’t about that for me. I want you to feel okay about it. Better than okay,” he propped himself up and ran his thumb back over her hairline, keeping his eyes on hers. “We don’t have to. We can wait.”  
But with just those few words, her confidence and desire were propelled miles forward by his patience, sweetness, and selflessness. And she quickly rose up on her elbows to take his mouth in hers.  
“You sure—”  
But she cut him off again with another kiss.  
From where Arthur stood watching, he smiled softly and nodded as he turned and left the room. **“You always were gentle with ‘em. Weren’t you? Both of ‘em. Even though you coulda sworn you didn’t have it in you.”**  
And a little while later, his younger self opened the bedroom door, still naked, and brought Isaac in his bassinet back into the room.  
When Arthur blinked again the honeymoon cabin was bright, with daylight trickling in through the windows. He was standing in the bedroom watching Eliza giggle where she sat in her white cotton nightgown across her husband’s lap while his hands rested on her lower back. Both her legs were to one side, and she had his straight razor in her hand. They were seated before a little mirror vanity.  
“Oh! Hold still!”  
“You ain’t ever done this before,” he said through a layer of snowy white shaving suds. “I'm supposed to just relax, sit free an’ easy?”  
“Well, still! At least!” she laughed, holding the razor up.  
“Ain’t even terribly long. I thought you liked my scruff.”  
“’Course I do. I like you every way. But every once in a while calls for smooth, soft kisses. Not prickly, scratchy ones,” she scrunched her nose with a grin. “And I’d say a honeymoon is that occasion. Wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Morgan?”  
“Guess I can’t argue with that, Mrs. Morgan,” he smirked. “But you go with grain. You know that, right?”  
“Of course. I did have a father.” She started to bring the razor up again.  
“And you can’t rush through it. You gotta go slow.”  
“Oh, hellfire, Arthur!” she laughed, dropping her arm. “You can’t talk either!” Her eyes pulsed wide a moment as she straightened her back. “Now. Go like this,” she mumbled, pulling her top lip taut across her teeth and looking down at him over her cheeks.  
He rolled his eyes, but complied.  
At the sight, she pursed her lips together to stifle a laugh and brought her hand up to position the straight razor. But before its edge ever touched his skin, she was giggling again, this time through her nose.  
He yanked his face away and couldn’t keep from smiling. “You can’t laugh while you do this,” he chuckled.  
“I’m not! I’m not,” she fought to smooth her mouth.  
Smirking, he shook his head and finally lifted his brows. “You’re gonna make me bleed.”  
“Well. I already bled for you and Isaac.”  
He gave his head a little tilt to the side. “Ya got me there.”  
“Come on. Don’t you trust me?”  
He looked into her eyes, stilled, and slowly sat back. And she quietly went to work. He watched her face as she concentrated, only the sound of the blade gently scraping his skin filling the air between them. And each time she finished a stroke, she would wipe the razor on the cloth and look into his eyes before looking down for the next one.  
She was removing the foamy suds and hair to reveal his skin, his jaw, his mouth. And all the while, his eyes were on her—deep and still and captivated. She could feel them, like an anchor, and she could hardly keep from looking up at them each chance she got between strokes.  
“There,” she finally whispered, wiping some residual suds from his face with the side of her finger and gesturing towards the mirror as she set the razor and cloth on the countertop. “Not a bad job. Hm?” When he didn’t turn, she smiled and pushed his jaw towards the mirror with her thumb. “Look.”  
But he only glanced, and his head quickly snapped back to her.  
She mumbled a little chuckle, but it fell away when she saw he didn’t laugh with her. Swallowing, she gazed over his face, taking it in, landing at last on his eyes. She brought her hands to rest on either side of his jaw and slowly leaned forward for his mouth. And he was eager for her, tilting his jaw up to meet her.  
Though it was slow and easy, it was a deep and hungry few kisses. As if trying to tell each other without words how lucky they both felt. And when she drew away with a smile, without a word she lifted her arms straight up into the air.  
A smile slowly grew on his face when he took her meaning, and he scooted her nightgown up her thighs, bunching it and pulling it up over her arms and head.  
He carried her to the bed, gently dropping her there with a little plop as she laughed, and he removed his own clothes.  
From where he stood watching, Arthur sighed and began to turn. **“I’ll just…turn my back every time? I guess?”** But when he glanced back, they’d already finished. **“Oh, we sped ahead. Good,”** he said as he turned back around.  
They were lying propped up on opposite ends of the bed, facing each other—Arthur at the headboard and Eliza at the foot—with the sheets haphazardly bunched over them.  
Arthur lit a cigarette and left it in his mouth as he returned the matches to the bedside table.  
She had her bare foot resting on his chest, and she bent her leg and began to run her toes through his chest hair.  
“What—what're you doin’?” he mumbled with a wheeze, holding up his arms in confusion as she rubbed the sole of her foot on his chest. “What is this?”  
“I like it,” she said with a smile. “You’re like my big bear rug.”  
He smirked. “I’m lucky your feet ain’t rank.”  
“You wouldn’t mind if they were,” she said, looking down at his feet near her arm. She started to play with his toes, and he flinched a bit.  
“Quit.”  
She looked up at him, her brows coming together, a grin slowly rising on her mouth. She danced her fingers under them again.  
“Would you quit that?”  
“Arthur _Morgan_ , are you ticklish?”  
“Nah!” he said, straightening his back against the headboard and fidgeting.  
“Did I finally find a spot where you’re _ticklish?!_ ”  
“Nah, it ain’t that. Just don’t like that.”  
“And now you’re blushing!”  
He lifted his brows and made a show of rolling his eyes.  
“Oh… Sometimes…” she grinned at him, slowly shaking her head, “sometimes you’re just too much.” She went back to looking at his toes.  
“Don’t!” he picked up his leg.  
“I won’t! I’m lookin’ at somethin’ else.”  
Satisfied, and he relaxed his leg again.  
She looked back down and picked his foot up, resting his heel on her chest as she inspected his toes. “You’re so hairy, you’ve got dark hairs all the way down to even your little toe!”  
“Yeah… So…” he whined nonchalantly, shrugging one shoulder.  
“I wonder if you gave it to Isaac,” she said, sitting up straight with a gasp and a burgeoning grin. “I wonder if Isaac has it! Oh, now I have to check!”  
Still naked, she scurried up out of bed to where he was snoozing in his bassinet and peeked under his wolf skin blanket and sheets. “He does!” she whispered an incredulous laugh. “Our two-month-old baby has teeny tiny hair on his little toe!”  
“I don’t know what it is you’re makin’ such a fuss about,” he drawled with a growing smirk. “I’m sure just about everybody's got that.”  
“No, I doubt I do,” she grinned coyly, hopping back into her position in bed and wiggling her foot up near his head. “You check for me.”  
“All right, I will,” he said in a tone dripping with adamancy, his cigarette still dangling and bobbing between his lips. He took her foot in his hand near the left side of his face and turned to look at it. “Well quit movin’, this is scientific, now,” he mumbled past the cigarette in a very mock-serious tone, knowing it would send her into a giggling fit as he kept his eyes on her foot and did a superb job of fighting even a hint of a smile at the sound.  
He made a show of squinting hard as he took her curly little toe between his fingers. “You have…exactly one and a half golden princess hairs on your tiny little toe.”  
A raucous laugh burst through her nose as she slapped him on his sheet-covered thigh.  
“You do! You can check for yourself!” he looked at her, finally allowing himself to smile wide.  
Their laughter softly faded as the scene changed again, and Arthur found himself watching the three of them at the bathtub in the same room. The daylight had gone, and they’d lit candlesticks atop a couple of the bedside tables and the dresser.  
Eliza was sitting bare in the tub with little Isaac in her arms, humming softly to him as she slowly and gently washed him. She kept his head near the crook of her elbow while the rest of him lied atop her forearm, his little belly peeking through the surface of the water.  
“It’s his turn to float,” she smiled to Arthur, who sat on the floor beside the tub.  
He smiled softly in response and watched her bathe him. She would cup her hand with a bit of the warm water and bring it up to lightly sprinkle the back of his head while he looked up at her and blinked his tiny doe eyes.  
While she did, Arthur reached up and took her hairbrush from the top of the nightstand. He knew the sensation of having her hair brushed was always something she seemed to take deeply to heart and enjoy. As he gently and slowly pulled the soft bristles across her scalp and through her blonde hair, he watched her eyes close a few moments to savor it.  
He looked down over her shoulder and took in all of it—what he saw there and what it meant. A woman sweeter than honey itself, more loving and understanding than anyone he’d known, trusting and comfortable enough with him to be completely naked and laid bare in his presence. A baby, his very own son, the product of both of them and only them, looking up at them. Growing fast and healthy, somehow already so smart and kind and big-hearted, he knew.  
Both of them as they sat there were more precious than all the jewels the world had to offer.  
Arthur noticed the expression on his younger face slowly slide into something solemn. And he knew it was because as precious as they were to him, he harbored the very same amount of fear that they’d come to know harm. That he’d lose them. That they’d be ripped from him somehow, someway. Because he knew all too well what kind of a world it was they were living in.  
**“Yeah, that’s it,”** Arthur nodded where he stood, his voice growing. **“That you’re feelin’ right now? That feelin’ where you know you could be scared absolutely shitless if you let yourself be. You use it. You use it to make sure nothin’ _ever_ happens to ‘em. You understand me?!”**  
His younger self hadn’t heard him. But he was sure, if he knew himself at all, that he hadn’t needed to.  
The sound of Eliza’s humming awoke him from his heady, worried tumble of thoughts. And when she smiled back at him, he pulled himself back into the moment with her.  
As he continued to brush her hair, he watched her cup the back of Isaac’s head before bringing her hand gently down over his cheek, chest, and belly.  
“We’re taking care of baby, you’re taking care of me,” she said quietly before looking up into his eyes. “And I’m going to take care of you, Arthur. I promise.”  
He was instantly reminded of her words at their wedding. And as he looked into her eyes, he knew she wasn’t being coy or playing any games. She was speaking of their life to come. That in this sort of train of care they were making at the moment, she wouldn’t let it be a representation that in life it would stop with her. She was promising him that she would always remember him and his needs too, look after him too. That he would never be taken advantage of or dismissed, that his good would never be forgotten. That he would always have someone there, thinking of him.  
It was a simple sentiment that he’d never been offered by another human being. And as Arthur watched them look into each other’s eyes, he knew he was a fool to’ve ever given her up. He’d been so thoroughly convinced that all he was, was bad for her. For both of them. And he'd forced himself to keep her at arm's length because of it. But she’d been just as convinced of the opposite.  
They finished bathing Isaac, and Eliza nursed him and put him to sleep in his bassinet. And before long, Arthur’s younger self had matched her level of undress, and they were beginning to make love on the bed.  
Arthur groaned and started to roll his eyes where he stood. **“I get it. You’re havin’ lots of sex. I get it, all right?”** When he heard Eliza start to whine and frantically gasp, he ran a hand across his forehead and down the side of his face. **“Jesus.”**  
He couldn’t help but glance over at the pair. His shoulder was under her chin, and he had his mouth on her jaw, her neck. She had her hand on his back, running down lower and lower. He gulped as he watched her underneath him where he drew back a bit and hovered. She had her chin tilted up ever so slightly as she struggled to chase the breath that sat just on the edge of her lips taunting and teasing her, unable to catch it.  
**“Hooo…Christ,”** he murmured a whine, rubbing his neck. **“Is that what we looked like?”**  
His younger self smiled at the sight of her breathless, blissful expression as he finished her off and she unraveled, clutching tight to his shoulders. And they both lost themselves for a few moments.  
When she came to and began catching her breath, she noticed his smile. “What?”  
He couldn’t suppress his grin. “Nothin’.”  
“Why’re you smilin'?”  
“Nothin', it’s nothin'!” he laughed.  
“What is it?”  
“I just like seein’ you like that, is all. Makes me happy.”  
“Like what?” she began to grin as he lied belly-down beside her, keeping his face near hers.  
“I…can’t explain it,” he whispered, almost blushing. “Just that you’re…really…enjoyin’ yourself,” he added with an airy laugh. “I like bein' the one to give that to you.”  
As she grinned, he began kissing her all over, sucking her soft skin and letting go quickly so it made a little popping sound—on her chest, her freckled shoulders, her neck, under her jaw.  
“Because ain’t no reason…” he said between each popping kiss, “you shouldn’t have…all the happiness…this world has to give.”  
She smiled and mumbled a quiet, rolling giggle.  
They finally both turned face-to-face and held each other in their arms, a still hush falling around them.  
He noticed she would close her eyes and quickly blink them open. He brushed his fingers through the hair near her temple. “Tired, kiddo?”  
“N-no, I’m not.” But her eyelids were slinking up and down.  
“Mmm…you’re sleepy,” he grinned.  
“Mm-mm,” she gave her head a tiny shake, wrestling with herself to keep her fluttering eyelids open. “First…first one to sleep has to…has to change all the diapers tomorrow.”  
“No.”  
“Who’s it gonna be-eee? Not me-eee!” she quietly sang.  
“No,” he wheezed.  
“Why not?”  
“Because you’re gonna be the one to change all the diapers tomorrow,” he tried not to laugh.  
“Nooo,” she shook her head again.  
“Why don’t you wanna sleep, baby? Hm? Why don’t you wanna close your eyes?”  
“Mmmm…” she mumbled low with a sheepish grin, tugging her shoulder up tight to her cheek as her eyelids fought her.  
“Huh?” he gave a little chuckle. “Tell me.”  
Her eyes were doing more closing than anything now. “Because…” she smiled, running her palm up his chest, over his neck, and resting her forearm over his shoulder, “because I don’t wanna miss you, Arthur. I don’t wanna miss you.”  
His brows drew up, and a smile inched its way up the corners of his mouth as he watched her begin to unwittingly give in and drift off. He gently rubbed her arm and back to ease her on her way. And he came close and brought his hand to rest on her neck under her ear as he pressed short, gentle kisses to her soft lips.  
“ _I love you_ ,” arose like a simple breath from him.  
But as he drew away, he saw she was already fast asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t hate me. 😶
> 
> Here's a table for you to flip.  
> 
> 
> ┬─┬


	10. Chapter 10

“God _damn_ it!” Arthur shouted to himself in camp the next morning, quickly sweeping his hand and knocking over an empty coffee percolator, unintentionally alerting the whole gang to his little fit.  
When he felt them staring at him, he looked up. “Sorry…” he rubbed his neck before walking off.  
And later that afternoon, he went looking for a special something to put himself to sleep. He asked Pearson, who directed him to Strauss, who waved his finger to his left.  
Arthur looked in that direction. “Who, Susan?”  
Strauss did nothing but nod, keeping his gaze down at his books.  
Arthur walked over to her. “Hey there, Miss Grimshaw,” he began sheepishly. “Was wonderin’ if you had somethin’ could help a man get to sleep. I was advised to speak with you.”  
She looked him over. “You don’t seem to be in need a' sleep, Mr. Morgan. No bags under your eyes. Just a bit antsy for some reason.” She started back about her work. “Good bowl a' Pearson's stew set ya right—”  
“Damn it, woman,” he chuckled airily, going into a low tone as she paused and turned to eye him. He grinned and tilted his head. “Either you got it, or you don’t got it.”  
She squinted and half-smirked, then walked to her secret stash as he followed. “Here,” she said, handing him a little burlap bundle. “Valerian root and lavender. Does wonders. You need anymore, you just come to me, all right—”  
“I’ll take all you got.”  
Her brows rose. “You gonna find me more ingredients?”  
“’Course, course,” he nodded. “Just let me have it all.”  
She placed multiple little bundles in his cupped hands, and to her surprise, he walked off and began unwrapping one right away.  
He brewed it, drank it, and quickly released the flap on his covered wagon to ensure he’d be left alone.  
And as he lied down on his cot, in a matter of moments he was dreaming of them again.

They were in the homestead at Deer Head Ranch. It was evening, the cabin was dimly lit. And his younger self was leaning against the threshold of the master bedroom, watching her in the tub with her back to him as she bathed their son. She lifted him up in the air, and as she slowly brought him back down to kiss him, he had the biggest smile on his pudgy little face. His baby fat was even more noticeable, each roll more distinct.  
As they sat there in the quiet, with the dim light from the sunset illuminating the gossamer curtains behind them, he watched the soft smile on his younger self's face. And he knew there was nothing else he wanted in the world.  
When the scene changed, Eliza was standing near the crib in Isaac’s room one morning.  
“Ten months today,” she whispered. When she saw him with his leg craned up, holding his foot, and sucking on his big toe, she laughed. “No need for that, silly. If you’re hungry, mama’ll feed you. But look what I got for you this morning.” She showed him a spoon she’d left outside to chill overnight as a treat to soothe his gums.  
Its shine caught his eye, and right away he dropped his foot and reached up for it.  
She smiled when he started to munch on it. “Yep…thought you’d like that.”  
After she changed his diaper and lifted him into her arms, she caught a whiff of cedarwood extract and grinned. “Someone’s been kissin’ on the baabyyy…” she sang as she walked back to the master bedroom with him on her forearm.  
Arthur was asleep on his back in bed as she came and rested Isaac on his belly beside him before walking off towards the dresser. Isaac was dressed in a little flannel sleeper pajama that she must’ve made for him. It covered his feet, but the wrists were open for his little hands.  
When Isaac rested his hand and his closed fist with the spoon on his father’s long-john clad chest and began to push himself up and crawl with wobbly steps, trying to side-step up closer to him, Arthur woke.  
“Hey, big time,” he said with a groggy smile. “How ya doin’ today, bubba? Huh?” He patted his little diapered bottom a couple times.  
“He’s got a spoon, Arthur.”  
“I see it.”  
“I just don’t want him to stick the other end down his throat.”  
“Nah, he’ll be all right. Huh, bud? Daddy’ll watch you. Hey, you ready to take a little trip today? We gotta make our trip we do every couple months, get some things they don’t have here in town. You gonna help Mama and Daddy out at the store in the big city?”  
“ _Big city?_ ”  
When he heard her scoffed laugh, he smirked and looked up at her flatly. “Breckenridge is a big city for us. Bigger ‘an Misty Willow.”  
“Well…I guess that’s true. Lord knows I ain’t ever seen a bigger one.” As she finished fastening her stays, she turned to leave the room. “I’m gonna put on some coffee, okay?”  
“Mm-hm,” he said as he rested his head back on the pillow. He watched Isaac suck and munch on the cool spoon, his little bottom wiggling behind him as he tried to get a good footing. Arthur smiled at the sight and rested his eyes a moment.  
“Dada,” he heard.  
He quickly opened his eyes and looked at him. “What was that?” He scooted up a bit to rest his head against the headboard, never taking his eyes off him. “What was that now?”  
“Dada.”  
He wheezed with a big smile. “Hun! Get back over here! He said it!”  
“Oh _no_ , Arthur, not _again_ ,” she moaned as she came into the room.  
“He did!” he pointed at him, looking at her as she came to sit beside him on the bed. “Have I ever lied to you?”  
She grinned wryly. “Are we counting about this?”  
He rolled his eyes. “Come on, son, show her. Say it again. What’s my name?” He waited with big, expectant eyes, gesturing to himself. “What’s my name?”  
Isaac looked back and forth between them and took the slobbery spoon out of his mouth. “Mama.”  
“Ugh, _no!_ ” he groaned and threw his head back, avoiding Eliza’s pointed squint and smirk.  
Isaac smiled bright. “Mama! Mama!” he giggled and bounced. “Mamamama.”  
“Oh, now he thinks it’s funny. Great,” he said with a fed-up gesture of his hand.  
“Because it kinda is,” she smiled up at him as Isaac crawled to her. She lied back on her side and unbuttoned her bodice to let him nurse.  
“ _Shhhit_ …” he muttered, rolling his eyes and running his fingers back through his hair as he lied on his side facing them, propping his head up with his elbow. “Beat by the tit. _Again_.” He smiled when she laughed. “Can’t say I blame him.”  
They watched Isaac lie beside her and close his eyes, his puffy lips making an effective suction around her, his little throat pulsating with the steady intake of nutrition, his pudgy little hand resting closed on her chest.  
She stroked the back of his golden head. “I’m gonna miss this, Arthur.” She looked up at him. “A couple months, and he’ll be walkin’ and runnin’ around… Then he’ll shoot up like a weed, be as tall as you. And he’ll leave me behind. Won’t need or want me anymore.”  
“Aw, hun. Need don’t go along with want. He’ll always love his mama.”  
She smiled softly down at Isaac. “Just won’t be quite the same. Gotta enjoy it while it lasts.”  
When Arthur blinked, they were standing inside a shop later that day.  
Eliza had Isaac, still in his flannel pajamas, perched on her right forearm. Arthur was browsing the opposite shelves, though he regularly kept his eye on them.  
When one moment while he had his back turned he heard, “Well, hey there, _baby_ ,” in what was clear to him to be a slinky, sleazy tone, he turned to see a sweaty ranch hand leaning on the counter to Eliza’s left, looking her up and down.  
Though Arthur’s fist immediately balled tight and the blood in his neck must’ve risen by twenty degrees, he watched Eliza smile, look at Isaac, and turn to face the man squarely as she waved Isaac’s little hand to him.  
“Say hi, Isaac,” she said.  
The lowlife immediately grimaced at the sight of what he hadn’t noticed before she’d turned—a baby—and practically scurried to the other side of the store without another word.  
Arthur smiled bright and had to bite his lip to keep from bursting into laughter. Whether it was at the fact that a baby was proving to be the most effective scum repellant he could ask for, or at Eliza’s ever-sweet innocence, or both, he couldn’t tell.  
He came over and took Isaac from her, bringing his arm around her and walking her to the corner a moment.  
“Keep away from him, honey,” he said, his pitch low.  
“Why?” she looked up at him, her brows crimped.  
“‘Cause he’s too much like me, before you.” Trusting her to take his pointed smirk as enough of a hint, he shifted Isaac onto his forearm and continued about the store.  
Isaac kept his head up, his eyes alert to the multitude of new bright and shimmery things around him, to every move his father made. His mother watched as he let his little arm drape contentedly on the back of his father’s shoulder. And as Arthur walked around with him, he’d steal a kiss here and one there, planting his lips on his cheek and plump little neck and going about his business for the next minute or so—as if he couldn’t go long without doing so, maybe without even realizing it.  
When Arthur finally arrived at the front counter with a bundle of things in his free arm to purchase, the store owner greeted them with a smile.  
“Been a while since I’ve seen you folks in here.”  
“No, we don’t often make it round these parts,” Arthur responded as Eliza appeared by his side. “Just every couple months, for certain necessities and sundries we can’t get in our neck a’ the woods.”  
“How old is he now?” he gestured to Isaac.  
“Ten months today,” she beamed. “Ain’t he darling in his little sleeper?” she said, adjusting the little rounded white lapels of his collar. “And so fetching on his daddy’s arm? And his daddy just can’t keep his lips off him.” She smiled and planted a kiss to Arthur’s cheek.  
“Can I getcha anything else today?” the clerk asked.  
“Take a couple packs a’ buck shot,” Arthur gestured to the shelf behind him. “I like the brand you stock here.”  
“Oh, and a box of chocolate please,” Eliza quickly added.  
Arthur turned to look at her with a twist to his brows.  
Her eyes pulsates wide a moment.  
He turned further and whispered to her, “You startin’ your monthly soon?”  
With her lips pursed tight in a grin, she tilted her head.  
He promptly turned back to the clerk and set an extra bill on the counter. “Make it two boxes a’ chocolate.”  
After they paid and stepped outside onto the boardwalk, Eliza looked around.  
“All right, what next?” Arthur said, reaching around Isaac to roll the top of the paper bag. “‘D you like a nice dress or somethin’?” he gestured to the tailor across the street. “Now would be the time. Bet they got nicer material here than in Misty Willow.”  
“Oh, no, what am I gonna do with a fancy dress, Arthur?” she waved at the notion. “Let’s just take a walk and see what we see.”  
As she took Isaac back from him, she had her eye on the bookstore several shops down. But as they walked, their attention was snagged by a couple goods sellers with booths near the alley, and their steps slowed.  
While Eliza perused a booth covered in scarves, she heard a feminine voice behind her.  
“Well, hello, _handsome_.”  
She turned to see a woman grinning at Arthur.  
“Bet you know how to show a gal a good time, huh?” the woman remarked, beginning to come closer as Arthur took a step back.  
“Oh yes,” Eliza smiled, her eyes bright as she came and stood beside Arthur with Isaac still on her hip. “He was showin’ it to me just last night, while I had my tongue in his mouth.”  
The woman’s eyes grew wide, and so did Arthur’s as he turned his head to look at her.  
“And you know,” she continued in mock consternation, “you wouldn’t believe the energy it takes for love-makin’ after a full day of carin’ for a little one, even for young and healthy parents. Phew! Someone oughta give us a medal.”  
Dipping her chin, the woman turned to quickly walk away. And just as soon, Eliza’s chipper demeanor melted away into a snarl and detesting squint.  
“E _liza Morgan_.”  
“What?”  
“You just don’t talk about that kinda stuff in public!”  
“She did!” she said flatly, adding a humph as she began to turn, keeping her eyes on the woman. “She won’t be talkin’ to you ever again, now will she?” Glancing up, her eyes caught his before she was turned all the way. “Flash that ring a’ yours every now an’ then, husband. Jehoshaphat! I gotta do all the work?”  
As Arthur watched his younger self swallow and run a hand over his face, he couldn’t keep from busting a gut, almost teetering over in laughter. **“Come on, ya gotta admit,”** he said between wheezing laughs as his younger self shook off the shock and began to smirk, **“she’s a feisty one!”** He wagged his head. **“You ain’t gonna get away with nothin’, bud,”** he smiled as he watched him skip a step to rejoin her on the boardwalk. **“And thankfully, you won’t ever, ever want to.”**  
And as he watched them walk together, the scene shifted and changed again. They were at home; Isaac was a few months older. He was perched naked on his father’s forearm as he carried him towards the master bedroom for a bath, blowing spurting kisses into his neck and causing him to joyously, melodiously giggle.  
But a few moments after they made it into the bedroom, Isaac was running out again, still naked, toddling like a chicken across the floor and laughing the entire time.  
“ _Agh_ ,” Arthur murmured. “I’ll catch him, don’t worry.”  
And he ran out after him, but Isaac too easily made a game out of it. He was crawling under the sofas, darting through his legs and back into the kitchen.  
Arthur decided to go around to the other side of the kitchen table. And when Isaac ran into him there, Arthur roared like a lion with his hands out like claws.  
Isaac jumped and let out a scream that immediately rolled into a deep, raucous, throaty giggle, as he dipped the side of his chin to his chest and clenched his fists tight. And Arthur let his head sag back with a grin in triumph at the perfect sound.  
While he did, he suddenly heard an entirely different sound—one of trickling and tinkling, and his eyes shot open wide.  
“ _Oh_ , no! Unh-uh!” He looked down to see Isaac with his finger in his mouth, letting out a stream of urine straight onto the floor. He quickly scooped him up facing away with a hand under each of his arms and frantically scrambled as Isaac continued to leave a trail of piss. He finally ran outside and set him on the porch, where Isaac looked down and back up at his father, his little finger still in his mouth. “There ya go. Finish out here.”  
But it was clear he only had a few drops left.  
Eliza appeared by his side in the doorway. “Arthur, what…?”  
“Caught him in the middle of it.”  
“Yeah, I know!” she laughed, lifting her hand and letting it drop.  
“Brought him out here to finish.”  
“Well, yeah, but…now instead of havin’ it in one spot, it’s all over the house!”  
He grimaced and winced. “Ooh…”  
She chuckled and rested her hand over her forehead and eyes, finally sighing and shaking her head.  
And that evening as they sat on the sofa watching Isaac wind down as he played with his blocks in only his diaper on the floor, Arthur noticed him stand and fiddle with his bellybutton over his round little belly. With his eyes drifting closed, he finally lifted a hand to his scalp behind his ear and started to twirl his blonde hair there, over and over.  
Arthur’s brows came together at the sight, and he reached out and pulled his arm. “Quit that,” he laughed. “You’re gonna make yourself go bald.”  
Isaac smiled big and let out a low, moaning laugh as he swatted his father’s hand away and went right back to twirling his own hair.  
“It’s all right,” Eliza lifted her head from Arthur’s shoulder. “He won’t go bald. He’s self-soothing.”  
“What you mean?”  
“Well, you know that thing I do, stroke his head before he sleeps?”  
Arthur paused and looked at her before gesturing to what Isaac was doing. “That there’s about you?”  
She grinned and nodded.  
He smirked. “See hun? All this worryin’ you been doin’… He’ll never stop lovin’ his mama. You’re in everything he does, even if he don’t know it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just some slice-of-life stuff before we get some...big👀...stuff next chapter.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed. 🥰


	11. Chapter 11

The next evening, Arthur took no chances with insomnia and set right to work brewing the concoction he’d gotten from Grimshaw.  
His dreams took him once again to that familiar master bedroom at Deer Head Ranch. It was early morning, and he watched as his younger self lifted his suspenders onto his shoulders and secured his belt while Eliza sat before the vanity mirror brushing her hair, still in her soft white nightgown.  
He glanced at his hat atop his dresser and left it there, instead going into the top drawer of the dresser and taking something from a square velvet box. He walked over to her and crouched behind her chair. Slipping his finger underneath the silky blonde hair at her neck, he gently pulled it around to her back, pressing his lips softly to her skin. He let his lips venture up her neck, behind her jaw and ear, then onto her cheek.  
As she began to turn to face him, he could feel her smile from the way her cheek lifted, and he couldn’t help but match it with his own. “Unh-uh. Turn around.”  
“Hm?”  
“You heard me. Go on.”  
She sighed and turned back to face the mirror.  
“Close your eyes,” he whispered.  
With a grin, she did as she was bade.  
He lifted his hands and hung something around her neck, fastening it behind her. “All right. Open ‘em.”  
She took in a quiet, dazed gasp at what she saw in the mirror: a deep blue sapphire about the size of her little fingernail, dangling atop her chest by a dainty golden chain. She brought her hand up beside it, but in her daze she was nervous to touch it.  
“ _Arthur_ … We can’t afford this.”  
“I’ll say what we can afford.” Still behind her, he came close and began pressing kisses to her cheek and jaw again. “And I say…we’ve got more than enough to allow me to dote on my lovely…beautiful…darling wife. Won’t you let me?”  
“Ain’t even our anniversary,” she smiled. “What’s the occasion?”  
“Weren’t you listenin'?” he laughed against her skin. “Takin’ the chance to dote on my wife ain’t enough?”  
She chuckled and smiled bright as she brought her arm around the opposite side of his neck and turned just enough to kiss him on the mouth. When she drew away, she looked up into his eyes and whispered, “You’ll never see it off me.”  
“Mm, so she likes it…” he grinned as she came close to kiss him again.  
She smiled as she shifted to turn all the way to face him and sit on the chair with her knees, bringing her arms around his neck and kissing him deeply. She slowly brought her hands forward down over his chest and felt him sigh. But when she slid them down to rest on his abdomen, he let out a whine.  
“Don’t get my blood up right before a hunt.”  
She pulled away and looked at him with an exaggerated pout. “Oo, so _dangerous_ ,” she said low.  
His smile brightened as his mouth hung open, and he chuffed an airy laugh. “I’ve gotta be calm out there!”  
“Well…” she said, sliding her palms back up onto his chest, “you’d be good and calm by the time I was done with ya.” She bit her lip and nodded a couple times with a cheeky grin before leaning forward to continue kissing him.  
“Hun, quit!” he tried to pull away with another laugh.  
“Why?”  
“Because this is not why I got it for you. And I want you to be sure of that.”  
She smiled bright. “Well, the sapphire is not why I wanna touch you either.”  
From his vantage point watching the pair, Arthur looked at her. He’d long known physical touch to be probably the foremost way Eliza gave and craved to be shown love. Unluckily for her, it just so happened that that self-same thing hadn’t always meant love to himself. But it had always meant the world to Eliza. That and words of comfort, compassion, and affection. A thing he dealt out fairly seldom. He almost scoffed a sardonic laugh at himself at the thought. With himself the way he was, maybe it was a wonder she loved him, or wanted to be around him at all.  
In fact, if he actually stopped and thought about it, the way he probably showed love most was working with everything he had in him to serve, support, and protect those he loved in any way he could. It wasn’t always interpreted by others as love, but love was exactly what he meant by it. That, and gift-giving every now and then. And all he wanted in being _shown_ love was to be told that he was worth something to someone, and for that person to follow up their words with action by actually sticking around.  
But it was clear she’d appreciated the gift. More than anything else, it was clear she loved him. And she just wanted to show him.  
He watched his younger self pull his head back a bit and shoot her a wry and suspicious look. “Are you tryin'a make another kid? We’ve only talked about it a couple times…”  
“No! Honest!”  
“Good. ‘Cause that I can say we probably couldn’t afford. We can’t handle more!” he wheezed. “Least not right now.”  
“No, no. This is about you and me, Arthur. You and me,” she said, dipping her chin slightly and nodding as she spoke. “Always has been.” Her deep eyes were filled to the brim with adoration and yearning.  
He moaned. “Don’t look at me like that. Later, all right? I got work to do.”  
But she kept kissing him as he pulled away.  
“I gotta go. Later. Promise.”  
“I’ll hold you to that,” she eyed him. “You come back to me at the end of the day. Worn out or not, you get yourself right back here.”  
He smirked. “Deal.”  
As he turned, she bit her lip and quickly grabbed his rear. “That ass is mine.”  
He jumped just a little and turned back to look at her.  
“What? I signed a license says so,” she said with a wink, beginning to turn back towards the mirror to finish brushing her hair.  
He wheezed a laugh and shook his head as he started to go through the bedroom door. But he stopped and turned back, beginning to rub his neck. “Oh. I should probably mention… After I bring home my game, I was thinkin’ a’…takin’ a job. I saw a sign…” He watched her whip her head to him, then make an effort to try to look less concerned.  
“Arthur, we talked about this. You know how much I hate it. Every time, it’s the thought of losin' you should somethin’ go awry. And you got more than just me who’d lose you.”  
“It’s legal work, Eliza. A way to earn some hefty income, provide for my family. And I’m good at it. Damn good. Always have been. But that’s just the point, I’m _good_ at it. Which means ain’t nothin’ goin’ awry. I won’t let it. All right?”  
“Well, aren’t you…afraid of the sheriff gettin’ a look at your face when you make it into his office?”  
He furrowed his brows and half-smirked as he wagged his head. “It’s been at least six years since all that. I’ve learned not to look over my shoulder.” He paused and looked up and away. “Metaphorically speakin’,” he added with a chuckle. “Won’t be able to live much life if I do. Anyways, we seemed to strike a deal of askin’ no questions at the start. Said the best bounty hunters’ve got experience on the other side a’ things. If I ain’t worried about it, you don’t need to be neither.”  
“Just don’t…don’t take any unnecessary risks, all right? We need you. In more ways than one.” She offered a small smile beneath her concerned gaze.  
He nodded as he grabbed his hat off the dresser and put it on. “Unnecessary risks? Me? You kiddin’?” He smirked at her. “Not with my family waitin’ at home. Wouldn’t dream of it.”  
As he turned again, she started to say one more thing. “If you happen to wake Isaac, don’t mention you’re goin’ huntin’. You know he’ll wanna go with you.”  
“Ain’t no way,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “Six is way too young.”  
“I know it!” she laughed in a high pitch, tilting her head and waving a hand. “Try tellin’ him that.”  
Standing between the two, Arthur’s eyes shot wide. **“Wait. Wait, he’s _six?_ ”** He looked at his younger self. **“D' you just say Isaac’s _six?_ ”**  
“There’ll be time enough. I’ll take him huntin’ with me, and it’ll happen before he knows it.”  
She smiled at him through the mirror. “Stay safe, honey. Come back to us.”  
Arthur looked back and forth between them, the color quickly draining from his face. He looked down at the floor and nodded as he put the pieces together. **“This is it, ain’t it? This is the day…”**  
His younger self smiled back at her. “I will. Don’t you worry.”  
**“You will, and they won’t be here when you get back, goddamn it!”** Arthur shouted at himself. **“Hey, if this is the day I think it is, you can’t leave, buddy. You can’t go nowhere! Hear me?!”**  
But his younger self continued to close the door behind him.  
Arthur looked back at Eliza and dabbed his hand at her as he walked towards the door. **“I won’t let him leave. I won’t, all right?”**  
But she just went on brushing her hair.  
Arthur walked through the closed door just in time to see himself quietly opening the next bedroom door and walk over to Isaac’s bed where he slept soundly with his cheek on the pillow. He brushed his fingers through the blonde hair at his forehead and bent to kiss his cheek.  
As he straightened, Arthur continued to try to talk sense into him. **“Don’t leave today,”** he begged, beginning to grow frantic and breathless. **“All right? Any other day, maybe. Not today. Just stick around the house!”**  
But he didn’t hear him as he bent once more.  
Arthur threw his hands up and looked up at the ceiling. **“For once! You gotta be able to hear me! _Don’t do this to them!”_** He brought a hand up to cover his eyes for a moment. When he uncovered them, his younger self was leaving the room. **“No, no… This can’t be happening to me. Not again.”**  
He watched himself leave the cabin and mount Boadicea, taking her into the forest behind the homestead. As they crossed the creek and went deeper into the woods, it was almost as if Arthur were hovering behind his shoulder; he could see him bring Bo to a slow trot and reach forward to pat her neck as he looked out into the trees wondering where would be the best place to start hunting for game.  
Arthur watched him look up at where the mountain started to incline at his right. But when he saw him pause, look down, and turn his head to look back in the direction of the cabin, a spark caught in his chest.  
His younger self squinted as the sunlight broke through the leaves of the trees, and the look in his eyes spoke of uneasiness. It was clear he felt something was off, somehow.  
Arthur could’ve leapt for joy when he pulled the reins and turned Bo around, goading her with his spurs and a loud “ _Yah!_ ” as they flew back in the direction of the cabin.  
When the two of them came through the front door, they were smacked in the face by the state of the sitting room and kitchen. It had all been trashed—chairs overturned and broken, cabinets and shelves dumped of items, broken glass scattered across the floor. The sight grabbed both their chests in a vice like grip, and the color quickly drained from his younger self’s face.  
**“Back!”** Arthur pointed. **“Back in the bedroom!”**  
_“Mm—hot damn. We oughta take a peek at little prairie flowers more often,”_ his younger self heard muffled from behind the ajar master bedroom door. _“She’s somethin’ else. Think we got time to have us a little fun with miss blondie here?”_  
He pushed the door open to see Eliza and Isaac both dressed and crouching terrified on the floor, two men standing over them with their backs to him, their guns aimed down at them.  
The men didn’t get another word out before they heard the sound of two revolvers cocking near their ears.  
“Drop it. Both a’ you. Hands up where I can see ‘em.”  
“ _Arthur!_ ” Eliza gasped with relief, rushing to sit on the edge of the bed with Isaac.  
He kept his eyes trained on the men. “So much as bat an eyelash, and you’ll be lookin’ at your own brains on the wall. Just try me.”  
As the men dropped their weapons with thuds to the floor, he nodded. “You busted into the wrong house.” He glanced in Eliza's direction. She was trembling, one hand covering Isaac’s eyes. “Eliza darlin’. Isaac, son… You all right?”  
“Mm—Mm-hm.”  
“I’m okay, Papa.”  
“Where’s Hope? Ain’t heard a peep from her. She okay?”  
“Yes, dearest,” Eliza said. “She’s here, behind the bed.” She gestured to the space in the room between the bed and the far wall to the left. And she added with a whisper, her voice breaking, “Playing with her doll.”  
“Here I am, Daddy,” Hope said, beginning to sit up. He could see the top of her curly golden head begin to pop up above the edge of the mattress.  
Arthur’s eyes went wide, and his jaw dropped. **“Hope? That’s… _Hope?_ ”** His hand involuntarily went up to his temple as his mind raced.  
“Hope, baby,” he said, trying not to let his voice hint at the deep concern he felt rigidly snaking through him, “Hope Beatrice Morgan, you stay right where you are, you hear me? You don’t look over where Daddy is. You go on playin’ with the doll Mama made you. Can you do that for Daddy?”  
**“Well, she… She’s alive? Eliza didn’t…lose her?”**  
“Yes, Daddy.”  
**“She’s alive,”** Arthur breathed, a smile spreading across his face. **“You kissed her this mornin’, didn’t you?”** He thought back to the dark of Isaac’s bedroom. He’d been so panicked, he hadn’t noticed him bend to kiss Hope’s cheek too. **“Oh, god…”** He wiped his hand down the side of his face, still reeling from a mix of utter shock and joy. **“How old… She’s gotta be, what—about three?”**  
“Love you, Daddy,” came the sound of her quiet, sweet little voice.  
His younger self caught a glimpse of Eliza’s eyes, and their gazes locked for a moment before her expression absolutely crumpled at the sound of Hope’s pure and blissfully innocent tone. Her mother was inescapably riddled with nerves and fear.  
He shifted his gaze, now steely and full of wrath, to the men, who were only now realizing there was another child in the room.  
“All right, you got two options,” he said to them, still keeping his guns fixed on them. “Option one: I blow your goddamn heads—”  
“ _Daddy!_ Yucky mouth!” came Hope's little shout from behind the bed. “‘Member?”  
He sighed. “Daddy’s s-sorry. All right? Cover your ears anyway, baby girl.”  
“Okay.”  
He continued, “Option one, I blow your heads clean off, even in the presence of my wife and children.” He heard Eliza take a quiet breath and imagined her closing her eyes for a moment as she wiped a hand over her mouth. “Option two—” He caught himself and squinted sourly in disgust. “You know, maybe there really ain’t any need for option two—”  
“No! W-what is it? What’s option two?” said the weaselly, slimy little man sweating bullets to his left.  
“Well, you ain’t gonna like it,” he said, glaring into the eyes of the other man before him.  
“Tell us!” said the more nervous of the two.  
At his eagerness, a sly smirk worked its way onto his mouth under the brim of his black hat. “Option two is you put your own raggedy, bloody balls in my hand and walk outta here without ‘em.”  
He heard a truncated chuckle immediately burst from Isaac’s nose and looked over to see Eliza bringing her hand over her own face, still far too nervous to laugh. Though if he knew her, he knew she wished she could.  
“And never come back.” He looked back at the men, whose faces were ashen white as they fought to come to terms with the choice before them, and he smiled. “Decisions, decisions…”  
He noticed the glare of the man he was staring at falter. When he glanced down and saw the grip of a little pistol stuffed in the back of the man’s belt, he smirked, just hoping he’d make a go for it.  
In the space of a moment, the man tried to reach back for it, and Arthur immediately shot him in the head, sending a spray of blood and cranial matter onto the wall behind him.  
As his body fell to the floor with a dull thud, Arthur cocked his head and mumbled in mock sympathy, “Option one.”  
He heard Eliza gasp and caught a glimpse of both her and Isaac jump and squirm on the bed as her trembling grip tightened over both her own and Isaac’s eyes.  
He looked over at the other man. His own eyes went wide, and he nearly choked out a laugh when he saw him turned around and hunched over with his blade out. Then a ripping, tearing sound, which elicited a deep gasp from Eliza, a wince from Isaac, and a screech of agony from the man himself. When he turned back around, he held out the offering of a dripping, bloody clump in his hand.  
“Uh— No need,” Arthur said with a grimace, gesturing to the door with his gun. “Off you go. Take ‘em with you. I better not find ‘em anywhere on my property. And hey—”  
The man turned his haggard face back.  
“What was the other part of the deal?”  
He swallowed as he continued to limp and hobble away with his other hand over his bloody crotch. “Never come back.”  
“Not if you wanna keep breathin'!” Arthur ran to the front door and called after him. “I’ll make that pain look like a dream if I ever see you back here, I swear to god!” He considered for a moment making him dance amidst a flurry of gunshots. Instead he thundered, “Don’t you _ever_ come near my family again!”  
As soon as he was confident the miscreant had no intention of turning back, he holstered his guns and rushed back to the bedroom, where Eliza was a puddle of nervous tears, holding both their children tight to her on the edge of the bed.  
“Keep your eyes on me, babies,” she was whispering and cooing to them as they sniffed and moaned.  
Stepping over the body on the floor, he ran to sit by her side and held all of them, showering them with kisses. He wiped Eliza’s tears and kissed her cheek as she frantically clutched his shirt tightly in her hands.  
Resting his forehead to hers, he closed his eyes. “Remind me why we still live here.”  
She scoffed a laugh and tried to smile as she shook her head. “We’ll live anywhere, as long as you’re there, Arthur Morgan.” A little chuckle forced its way up through her chest as she cried. “Now I understand why you never wanna give up your holsters.”  
He smirked as he drew back, but his concern quickly returned as he watched her sputter and weep. “Hey… You’re all right now,” he said, his tone smooth and warm. “We’re all right. All of us.”  
She gently shook her head as the tears continued to fall. “It ain’t that.”  
“What is it then?” He brushed a tear away from her cheek with the back of his finger. “Hm?”  
She sniffed, her eyes still gathering tears as she looked up into his. “You’re just so good to us,” she said, her words broken by sobs and hiccups. “So good to me. There ain’t no comparison. And it’s never been so clear to me.” She sniffed and looked up into his eyes. “You’re a gentle and kind husband and father. Who could ask for anything more?”  
He watched her swallow as she placed a gentle hand to his cheek.  
“You don’t know how wonderful you are.” When she closed her eyes and took a breath, the tears in her eyes quickly fell down each cheek. “I love you.” She looked back up, and his gaze couldn’t escape hers if he wanted it to. And she whispered again, “I love you, Arthur.”  
But he just sat there, looking back at her, his mouth and voice struggling for the words of response.  
As he watched them huddled together on the bed, Arthur sighed and dropped his face in his hand. **“What the hell is the goddamn matter with you?”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sweetest Readers,  
> We are still far from finished, so please stick around. If you're interested, that is. ☺🥰 In case you're wondering, all of these dreams have a purpose and point; they're not just for their own sake. I'm most definitely going somewhere with all of this! 😉
> 
> This chapter is an important one to me. I knew that if I were going to write a fic like this, with Arthur sort of rewriting his story in his dreams, that his subconscious would have to address the question of whether he'd have been able to save them if he'd been there. Unfortunately like everything with Arthur, it's a double-edged sword: there's the joy of their survival, but it can easily fuel his regret and guilt even more. 😔
> 
> With that, I'll say Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! I don't expect this to be read today. But I wanted to get it posted for the chance that it could offer some small amount of cheer to those who might be lonely today (🙋♀️ me included). I hope that you all not only know, but feel that you are loved.
> 
> Rosie


	12. Chapter 12

When Arthur next slept, he was once again taken back to Deer Head Ranch.  
The sound of Isaac’s wailing suddenly filled the sitting room and kitchen, and he turned to see Eliza scooping him up into her arms. Isaac was younger than he’d been in his last dream, maybe somewhere around two and a half.  
He’d gone back in time, before Hope was around yet.  
When Isaac’s crying and wailing didn’t die down but instead grew louder, his younger self rushed into the room.  
“What happened? He okay?”  
“He stubbed his toe…” Eliza moaned and frowned, her eyes crinkled with remorse. “Oh, baby, don’t cry!”  
But he was wailing in full force, his crescent moon frown bent tight and tears streaming down his pink face.  
“Oh,” she closed her eyes and whimpered, bringing her hand to the far side of his face and pressing his cheek to her own. “Please don’t cry, sweet baby.” But before they knew it, she was starting to sob and whine right along with him.  
“Sweetheart! You cryin’ now too?” he said above the sound of both their wailing.  
“I shoulda seen him and kept him from stubbin’ his toe!”  
“No! Happens to everybody! You couldn’t avoid it.” With his brows drawn up, he half-frowned and tisked his tongue. “Breaks my heart to see you two cryin'.”  
“I shouldn’t be! I’m the mama, I should c-comfort him!” she hiccupped.  
“Ah, hun!” he slumped his shoulders. “Quit bein' so hard on yourself. Everyone’s got to now an’ then.”  
“You _never_ cry!” she wailed.  
A bright smirk pricked both corners of his mouth, and he tried not to huff a laugh. “Well, what’s that mean? You want me to?”  
“No,” she mumbled and sniffed. “But you just never do! And it makes me feel like I’m not an adult if I do.”  
He groaned and shook his head, dropping his face into his hand. “You’re plenty grown up, Eliza. And I like ya just exactly the way you are. I’ve tried to tell you so many times…” He peeked up at her with a little grin as she continued to whimper and cry with Isaac. “Ohh, look at you two. You really are breakin’ my heart.” He finally shook his head. “I can’t take it anymore. Here.”  
He came close and rolled up the sleeve of her free arm and began to gently and softly blow on her bare elbow.  
Her crying stuttered and slowed as she looked down at him, standing there blowing on her elbow. The combination of the endearing sight, the sheer ridiculousness and preposterousness of the action, and the feather-light sensation on her sensitive funny bone smoothed out her breathing and sent the hint of a curve onto her mouth. And she suddenly burst into an inexplicable, uncontrollable giggle.  
He smiled and blew there a few more times just to hear her laugh until he was satisfied she was okay. When he straightened, the effects from laughing were still all over her face.  
“Do him, do him,” she smiled, hurriedly pointing to Isaac, who was still moaning and crying with a tight frown and pouted bottom lip.  
He quickly came over, rolled up Isaac’s little sleeve, and began to blow on his elbow.  
Isaac paused and looked at him, which caused his mother to let out another laugh.  
Isaac immediately belted out a cackle, and his parents laughed and smiled with him as his tears began to dry.  
“Where did you learn to do that? That it works?” Eliza smiled up at him as he straightened.  
He shrugged and mumbled. “Just now,” he chuckled airily, rubbing his neck. “I don’t know, just felt right.”  
She grinned. “You got more father in you than you know.”  
He smirked a bit bashfully, then reached out and took her hand. “Hey, I don’t want you to ever be nervous about bein' anything but yourself around me, all right? I don’t want anyone but exactly who you are.”  
Her smile slowly brightened. “More father…and more husband.”  
Later that morning when they were all sitting down to breakfast, Isaac munched on a piece of strawberry. He was still small enough to fit in his little cubby chair that Arthur had fashioned for him in reality.  
As Eliza finished bringing her own plate of food to the table beside Arthur and went back to the counter to retrieve the percolator of coffee, Isaac pointed to each of them.  
“P-piwate mommy, and piwate daddy,” he said.  
“What’s that make you, my pirate baby?” Arthur said past the piece of toast he was munching.  
Isaac’s face immediately relaxed into a smile. “Yeah.”  
Arthur grinned and chuckled airily through his nose as he reached over and ruffled his blonde hair. “He’s a bit young for _Treasure Island_ , ain’t he?” he mumbled.  
Instead of a reply, he heard the sounds of dishes clanking and cupboard doors creaking shut in the kitchen behind him. He turned to see Eliza hurrying about the kitchen in a flurry, mumbling to herself.  
He got up and came over. “What’s goin’ on?”  
“I had it… I had it on…just this mornin’. _Oh_.” She ducked to look in a lower cabinet.  
“Had what on?” By her hurried movements, he could tell she was in a near panic.  
She straightened, but didn’t spend time looking at him as she continued about the kitchen. “My wedding ring,” she said quietly with a sniff. “I lost it.”  
He immediately stilled and looked down, going into his vest pocket. “No, you didn’t,” he said as he stood shoulder to shoulder with her and held it out before her. “Just a silly little prank,” he smirked. “You took it off to put balm on your hands this mornin’. And I snagged it while you weren’t lookin'.”  
He expected a demure laugh and a light smack on the arm but didn’t receive either. She immediately took it from him and slipped it on her left ring finger with a deep breath. He dipped his head to see her face had been reddening, a vein rising on her forehead, and her breathing ragged. He’d felt bad before about having sent her into a frenzy to look for it, but now that he could see just how serious she’d been about it, he felt even worse. He almost wished she’d hit him instead.  
“Oh, sweetheart,” he tisked his tongue. “Only meant it as a little tease.”  
“No, I know,” she nodded, looking up at him with a little smile, her eyes just barely glistening. “It was a good one,” she chuckled, biting her lip. “Just…glad to have it back, is all.”  
**“You are an _ass_ , kid,”** Arthur chuckled and shook his head. **“Lucky you found someone willin’ to put up with your silly shit.”**  
His younger self brought his arm around her and kissed her temple. “Just about ready to go?” he asked quietly.  
She nodded with a smile.  
He went outside and pulled the wagon up to the front porch, and she got up into the seat beside him with Isaac. The birds warbled and the butterflies fluttered in the air as he took them across the creek, past the forest down a country path for several miles until they reached a wide pasture edged with a few trees. The distant sound of music filled their ears as they hopped down from the wagon. Eliza carried Isaac perched on her hip as they walked through the tall grass in the direction of the music.  
“Gonna join us this time?” she asked. When she saw him begin to shake his head, she spoke more quickly. “I really think you might like it. There’s barbecue, and ice cream…”  
Watching the ground as he walked, he just grinned and shook his head with a chuckle.  
“You don’t make any less of a spectacle of yourself by standing off under a tree, you know,” she smirked.  
He stopped and kissed her on the cheek. And as he drew away, he watched her eyes follow him. “Have fun,” he said with a smile and began walking towards his tree.  
She set Isaac on the ground beside her, and they walked hand-in-hand towards Misty Willow’s twice-a-year ice cream social a few hundred yards away. The town had set down a make-shift dance floor made of pine boards, and the band was playing their fiddles, banjos, guitars, and harmonicas—tapping their feet to their own lively music where they sat on nearby crates as people joined in the dancing.

“Red Prairie Dawn,” The Jakob’s Ferry Stragglers  
<https://youtu.be/tjKkKVL_oqA>

When Eliza reached the dance floor, she immediately removed her boots and left them near a pile of other boots on the side.  
“Eliza! Come on, Eliza! Dance with us!” the other young women beckoned to her.  
And she rushed towards them barefoot, picking up her skirt with one hand, linking arms and clapping.  
As his mother spun and whirled about the dance floor with the other young women, Isaac looked in consternation at the pile of boots. He walked over and squatted to see every one of the ladies were barefoot.  
“Soos, Mama! Soos!” he pointed at their feet With his little index finger. He went back to the pile of boots, but he’d forgotten which pair were his mother’s. And he set about picking up each one.  
Meanwhile, his father was smiling at the scene from underneath the brim of his hat, where he stood leaning with his back against the oak tree.  
He watched his wife twirl and spin, the skirt of her gown fanning out around her. She clapped her hands in time to the music with a carefree look of elation and glee plastered all over her sweet, beautiful face, and her golden hair swinging behind her. He wore a warm grin as she bounced and flitted across the dance floor—a barefoot angel set against a bright blue sky, glowing and laughing vibrantly, just oozing with joy.  
He noticed a young man come up to her and offer a hand, asking her to dance with him. With a gracious smile, she shook her head and held her left hand up to her chest, making sure to give a good flash of her wedding ring.  
He watched Isaac slowly climb atop a crate to closely inspect one of the band member's banjo strings. Sitting on his little knees, he peered intently with scrunched brows at the strings and watched them vibrate with each quick pluck, pondering the unique sounds they made. He slowly reached out to touch the vibrating strings and looked up at the banjoist’s face when he did, though his touch didn’t mean a thing for the music.  
Isaac had crawled up just in time for the song to have arrived at the banjoist’s solo, so everyone was turned to watch him play. He plucked feverishly and passionately, his tongue sticking out over the side of his chin, and his foot tapping wildly. And when he was finally finished, he seamlessly reached out and pinched the side of Isaac’s belly, to which Isaac’s stern look of concentration immediately melted into a bright smile as he jolted and whipped his head back with a giggle, causing everyone to laugh and clap.  
His father couldn’t help but smile and laugh right along with them where he stood against the tree.  
After the final flourish of music, Eliza caught her breath and put her boots back on. She scooped her son up and went to get a bowl of ice cream from the nearby potluck table. She sat with Isaac on her thigh and fed him a spoonful. His eyes quickly went wide, and he reached out for the spoon when she tried to take a bite herself. She laughed and dotted him on the nose with the ice cream. He smiled but was undeterred, still requiring another bite.  
When she wiped his nose and he finally got another bite, his father watched him smile up at her, the word _daddy_ forming on his little mouth.  
She said something in return with a nod and looked over in Arthur’s direction with a soft smile as their gazes connected. She stood with Isaac on her hip and walked towards him with the bowl in her other hand.  
“He wanted to be sure his daddy got some,” she grinned as she handed him the bowl and spoon. “It’s strawberry.”  
He took it and quickly ate the last bite, nodding to Isaac with a grin and an, “Mmm. Thanks, bubba,” as he tossed the bowl and spoon on the grass.  
Then his eyes slid to hers, and without a word, he threaded his arms underneath hers, wrapping her by the small of her back and bringing her close so that their waists were flush together as he leaned back against the tree.  
He looked down into her face with heavily lidded eyes and a soft grin as they stood like that for just a little while, and he finally leaned down to kiss her slowly and tenderly.  
As he straightened off the tree, he brushed the back of his fingers to her cheek and kissed her again as he took her hand in his. “Come on,” he smiled. “Let’s get you home.”  
And as he watched them walk towards the wagon, Arthur somehow knew without having to be told. He knew that was it—the day they conceived Hope.  
When he blinked again, he was standing in their bedroom in the middle of the night some weeks later, draped in shadow and moonlight.  
The two of them were lying in bed, dressed in their nightclothes. Eliza was asleep on her back, her face turned towards him and her cheek on the pillow, and his younger self was dozing belly-down beside her with his cheek resting on her right breast and his arm draped over her chest. She had her arms curled up over his outstretched arm, her hands resting atop his upper arm and shoulder.  
Arthur smirked softly and rubbed his chin at the sight of their position, slumbering peacefully, almost like children. **“Peas in a pod, you two are.”**  
And all of a sudden, a gurgling noise bubbled up through her chest as she woke with a start and hurried to climb out of bed, running to a nearby wastebasket. She bent and vomited into it, holding her hair back with one hand.  
When she straightened and saw that she’d woken her husband, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.  
“Sorry,” she whispered.  
“You all right?” he groggily rubbed his eye.  
“Ugh…” she pressed her fingers to her mouth and grimaced. “I’m burping pure acid.” She swiped her hair back from her eyes. “I didn’t even think what we ate for supper had any acid.”  
He propped himself up on his elbow and looked at her. “You ain’t had your monthly this cycle yet. Have you?”  
She paused and looked up at him. “Well…no. But…how’d you know that?”  
He smirked. “I know everything there is to know about you, Morgan.”  
She matched his airy chuckle as she stood looking at him in the dim moonlight. “You…you really think so?”  
His grin widened. “I know so.”  
“Yeah?”  
“Yeah,” he nodded. He watched her look down and bring a hand to her abdomen. “It’s what we been hopin’ for.”  
She slowly looked up at him with a bright smile. “Yeah,” she whispered as she came back to bed, pulling her feet up and under the covers. She planted a kiss on his lips before ducking her head under his chin, pressing her cheek to his barrel chest, and wrapping her arms around his midsection as he brought his big hands to her back.  
And again, when Arthur blinked, he knew without needing to be told that it was a night a couple months later, though it was another scene of the two of them on the bed in the bedroom.  
The kerosene lamp filled the room with a warm glow. His younger self was sitting back against the headboard in his long johns, and Eliza was facing him, propped up by her knees with a thigh on each side of his lap.  
She’d hiked up her white nightgown past her abdomen, and they were both gazing down at her belly—still small, but growing in a teardrop shape, making it obvious someone was there.  
She ran her hand across her belly, and his palm quickly followed behind hers. But he brought his hands across a couple more times, down over the front and across the side.  
He finally leaned forward and kissed her belly, here and there, once, twice, three times and more—the sweet, quiet smacking sound of each kiss growing her smile even wider.  
She closed her eyes a moment and rested her hand in his hair, savoring the feeling of each wonderful kiss. When he drew away and sat back against the headboard again, she came close and rested a hand on each of his cheeks as she kissed his mouth.  
She finally withdrew her thigh from around him, dropping the hem of her nightgown as she sank to lie down on the bed beside him with her head propped up on the pillows.  
“Gabriel, Caleb, Nathan, Noah, Jonathan, Daniel, Aaron, Benjamin…Samuel…” she said quietly, taking a breath.  
“And those are all…Biblical names?”  
She looked up at him with a demure grin. “Yes…”  
He nodded.  
“But there’s also…Brett, Wyatt, Todd, Dylan…” she counted on her fingers. “That one’s an old Welsh name.”  
“And what if…it’s a girl?”  
Her eyes popped up to him again, a tiny, incredulous grin working its way onto her mouth. “You’d like a girl?”  
A grin flourished on his face, and he leaned over close, his voice warm and quiet, his words slow and measured. “Give me a little girl…just like you.” As her smile brightened and she bit her lip, he quickly planted a kiss on her lips and sat up straight again. “What about your mama’s name?”  
“Hope?” When he nodded, she nodded with him and smiled.  
“I know you always wanted to name your first kids after ‘em, to honor ‘em.”  
“And Beatrice for her middle name, after yours?”  
He smiled with a soft nod. “That'd be real fine.”  
As he turned and brought the journal sitting atop the nightstand on his side of the bed into his lap, she asked, “How do you think Isaac’ll take it?”  
“Don’t know,” he mumbled lightly as he opened the journal and took out his pencil. “I never had any blood siblings. Got a kid brother, you’ve seen him,” he chuckled, looking up briefly. “And no matter what happens in life, what we say or do, he’ll always be my brother.” He looked back down at the journal. “I imagine he’ll be just fine, ‘specially if we find the right words to tell ‘im.”  
He started scribbling in the journal, and he looked forward from the page as if contemplating what else to jot down.  
“He’s got a new tooth. Found it today.”  
“Oh yeah?”  
She nodded. “A molar.”  
With an easy grin, he handed her the journal and pencil.  
And Arthur’s eyes slowly went wide where he stood watching. **“You’re just…you’re just gonna hand her the journal like that?”**  
She reached for her little reading glasses on her nightstand and took the journal, looking at the page it was open to.  
Standing near the bed, Arthur looked over her shoulder to see what his younger self had written:  
_Eliza’s belly is growing each day. Ain’t terribly big yet, by any means. But when it’s just her and me, and we can look at her bare belly, we can sure tell now—there’s a bitty baby in there. We’re both real excited. Can’t wait to feel the little one move, like we did with Isaac._  
She grinned softly before picking right up on the same line with:  
_Found Isaac’s newest tooth today. A lovely little molar. He’s working on a full set of baby teeth. Before we know it, he won’t be a baby anymore. But he’ll always be ‘my baby.’ Looking more and more like his daddy all the time._  
She smiled at the sight of both their handwriting together on the page, and on pages past. It made each entry look like a beautiful patchwork, almost like a darling quilt.  
Flipping backwards through the leather-bound book, she caught glimpses dotted throughout of Arthur’s gorgeous sketches of their life together—wilderness landscapes, wildlife, domestic farm animals, numerous portraits of Isaac and herself, even a composite self-portrait of the three of them together. And when she made it to the front, she saw the words penciled in Arthur’s flowing script on the very first page:

  
_Arthur & Eliza’s Journal_

  
Slowly and carefully, she ran her fingertips over the words.  
**“I’ll be damned…”** Arthur breathed nearby. **“Eliza honey, you don’t know just how privileged you are.”**  
Taking her reading glasses off and setting them back on the nightstand, she handed the journal back to him. She watched him take it and go back to scribbling. And she looked down, fiddling with a crease in her white cotton nightgown.  
“Arthur?” she whispered quietly, her chin resting on her chest.  
“Hm,” he said, still writing.  
“And what if…” She was unable to look up at him as he turned his head to face her. “What if I lose the baby?” By the time she spoke the last word, her voice was so quiet, it had been reduced to a hardly a breath. When she finally looked up at him, her frown was pulled so tight, and it seemed painful for her to swallow. Her eyes were glistening, but not a tear fell.  
**“Well, get in there, and hold her!”** Arthur demanded, his expression something near appalled as he looked at her husband and quickly gestured to her.  
“Addie…Addie said it could happen. To anybody,” she finally whispered.  
“It ain’t gonna happen,” he replied simply, his voice calm and even as he closed the journal.  
“But what if it does?”  
“It ain’t.”  
“But what if it _does?_ ” she sniffed and glanced down at the fabric of her nightgown between her fingers, her head still propped up on the pillows. But as her chin trembled, she forced herself to look back up at his face above her where he sat against the headboard beside her.  
As he stood nearby watching Eliza bare her heart to her husband, Arthur could clearly see the worried question in her eyes; and the understanding registered at the very same moment for his younger self.  
That if he hadn’t married her for her body, then surely he'd done so for the baby. And she was terrified that if she lost this one, he would leave her.  
Her husband’s face crumpled as he lowered himself to lie down beside her, coming close and bringing his arm over her chest.  
**“Amateur,”** Arthur quipped, rolling his eyes with a half-smirk.  
“It ain’t gonna happen. All right? And even if it does…” he shook his head. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere. I ain’t. I couldn’t ever…” He swallowed, forcing himself to try to find the words as he hovered over her.  
**“Just say it, you dolt. Say it!”** Arthur shouted, motioning as though he were going to tear his own hair out.  
“There ain’t anybody else in this world…” he gently shook his head. “You… I… I…”  
She was calm and quiet as her big eyes looked back and forth into his.  
**“You’re doin’ real good, buddy!”** Arthur said with a big, sarcastic grin and wide, expectant eyes.  
His younger self finally sighed and reached for the journal on the other side of his thigh, picking up the pencil and writing something.  
Arthur threw his head back and groaned boisterously. But he had to stop himself. **“Well, if you don’t do it three years from now, you probably didn’t do it now, did ya?”**  
He grimaced and shook his head with a bitter half-frown. **“Got a beautiful kid, another on the way. She loves you with everything she’s got in her,”** he gestured to Eliza, who was intently watching her husband scribble. **“And you've got a shared journal with her, for chrissakes! Never in my life have I thought about doin’ such a thing with another person. You know you’re so goddamn solid gone for her, you can’t even see straight. But you can’t say it. And she suffers for it.”**  
He sighed and brought his fingers up to rub his temple. **“You’re just a sorry, broken, dumb bastard, is what you are. Hell, if I had what you got—”** he started to say in anger. But he quickly caught himself and swallowed his words.  
His younger self finished what he’d written and held the journal out to her. Arthur peeked over her shoulder to read with her the writing in his own sprawling hand:  
_I will never ever leave you, Eliza. Never. I don’t want you to ever worry about that. I’ll never choose to walk away or let you be alone. I made a vow to you. No one else. Because I wanted to. And nothing will ever, ever make me leave you. Ever._  
He’d made it a part of the day’s journal entry, cemented there forever.  
She shifted only her gaze to look up at him, her expression still calm and unchanged.  
He came close, his chest resting partially atop hers, and brought his hand to the side of her face so he could gently rub his thumb back and forth across her smooth cheek.  
And as she looked back into his brilliant blue-green eyes, she brought her hand up to run her fingers through the hair dangling softly at his forehead.  
**“Well, at least tell me you know when to make love to her and when to just hold her,”** Arthur drawled in a fed-up tone, letting his head bob loosely and grabbing his belt.  
He finally brought his lips softly to her cheek. He leaned forward further to press his cheek to hers and tuck his chin into the crook of her neck as he brought his arms around her.  
**“Ah, so you do,”** Arthur grinned with satisfaction.  
He watched her bring her hand to the back of his neck and close her eyes, soaking in the touch and the nearness of him.  
And his grin quickly melted away. Because he knew it without a doubt: **“She’ll wait for you. Bless her, it might take a whole lifetime. But she’ll wait for you to get there.”**  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've gone back in time, in his dreams! I hope you're tracking with me. ☺😅
> 
> That's the last "almost-I-love-you," I promise. 🙊
> 
> I wanted to post something peppy and upbeat about the next chapter. And I'm still working on it, I promise. But I have to say I've been so discouraged and struggling in general lately. Even struggling to believe that this story matters at all, even the teeniest, tiniest bit. 😓
> 
> Thankful for each of you. 💙
> 
> Rosie


	13. Chapter 13

Early the next morning Arthur sat alone on a log by the gang campfire, holding his mug of coffee in his lap.  
From a little ways off, John stood watching as Arthur gazed down at nothing, his soft smile slowly brightening until he chuckled to himself. Then in the matter of a moment his smile melted into a frown even more tense and sorrowful than that of his usual sober expression.  
“You…all right there…Arthur?” he asked.  
A little caught off guard, Arthur looked up, then glanced away, trying to play it off. “Just fine.”  
He tossed the dregs of his coffee, now long cold, into the grass as he quickly stood and walked off. And before he realized it, his feet had taken him to find Hosea. But he was grateful it was him, and no one else.  
“How are ya this mornin’, Arthur?” came the words in his familiar, nasally voice.  
“I’m—” he found himself about to lie. He shook his head and stepped closer. “I need to talk to you.”  
His expression shifted a bit. “All right. What about?”  
“I been…” He cleared his throat, thankful there was no one around to overhear them. But he still went into a quieter tone. “I been havin’ these dreams.”  
“Sorry, what was that? Dreams?”  
Arthur winced a bit as he looked up at him and nodded. “Dreamin' about ‘em.”  
“Them? Them who?” When their eyes connected, a sober realization filled his expression. “Ah. I see.”  
Arthur swallowed. “I went a few years without anything like this, and then—bam. Every single night now. Every time I close my eyes. I see ‘em. And they’re so…real. It ain’t foggy or blurry at all. It’s like I’m there. But I ain’t. It’s…torture.”  
“Eh… Who said it was such a bad thing?”  
“I live in the real world, Hosea,” he bitterly wagged his head. “They’re gone. Long gone.” He looked down and rubbed his neck. “It’s a strange way of havin’ ‘em haunt me. Startin’ to think there’s somethin’ wrong with me. But I can hardly keep from closin’ my eyes.” He sighed. “Guess I deserve it.”  
Hosea grimaced as he looked at him. “Arthur…” he sighed, his tone growing deep and quiet. “I know you don’t like to admit it out loud. Probably don’t even like to think it, because it hurts ya. It hurt then, ‘cause you thought you couldn’t be with ‘em. And it hurts now, ‘cause you can’t ever be again. But that woman and child… They were your family.”  
Hosea watched Arthur’s eyes close as his brows drew up tight at the words. And he continued, “Sure, we’re your family too, in a way. But they were your blood. Blood, and…blood of the heart. There’s nothin’ sweeter. You forget, I saw how you missed ‘em when you were here. How you loved ‘em. And I know you, Arthur. You like to talk big and tough, ‘specially when you think it’ll keep folk at a distance. But you can’t help but be gentle with those you love.”  
Arthur swallowed. “It twisted her up inside. That I was a lamb by the hand, and I could be a wolf by the mouth sometimes. Confused her, poor thing.” He tisked his tongue and let his head sag back a moment, his brows drawn painfully together at the thought. “And she never knew, Hosea. She never knew before she died. _God_.”  
Hosea’s brows rose a bit at that remark, because it was the closest to an admission of love that he’d ever gotten out of him. And if that wasn’t enough, the shattered expression on his face was. Even without words.  
Arthur finally glanced up at him. “I miss her. Miss both of ‘em.”  
Hosea shook his head in remorse. “You did what you thought was best by ‘em at the time, and they were ripped from you. In the most cruel and brutal fashion. And Arthur, there’s nobody I know who deserves that less. No—don't argue. I suppose I…” Hosea continued, nodding as he looked at his downcast face, “suppose I shoulda pressed ya harder at the time. To get out, and choose them over us. And I know that you even…had another by her, that she lost…right?”  
He nodded sullenly.  
Hosea shook his head in remorse. “Your life’s been fraught with pain. It’s no wonder you can be so sad and angry sometimes.” He watched his jaw tense as he looked away. “Say, why wrestle with it—huh?”  
He looked back at him warily. “What you mean?”  
“Well, like you said, you can hardly keep from sleepin’. So why fight it?”  
Arthur’s eyes drifted down as he contemplated what he was getting at.  
“Maybe…” he started to shrug, “if it’ll help you get past ‘em—"  
And his eyes shot back up to him. “I don’t wanna get past ‘em.” Tilting his jaw to the side and shaking his head, he abruptly walked off while Hosea was left sighing.  
And that night as he sat on his cot, Arthur opened his journal. As he flipped backwards, his hand began to tremble, knowing he was getting closer to their pages. And he finally shut the book with a sigh, stuffing it back into his satchel and lying down to sleep.  
But sleep provided no escape.  
She came into view, the sunlight dancing across her golden wisps of wavy hair, pinned up into a tousled bun as she strolled down the boardwalk of some bustling town. And there was Isaac on her hip—same golden hair, same freckles, same smile as his mother.  
“Plants!” an old female vendor at a booth nearby could be heard barking. “Plants from the far, exotic reaches of the Amazon! Plants with every health benefit you could wish for!”  
Arthur watched her begin to curiously walk up to the booth, though his younger self strolled right past it. They must’ve been on another of their now-and-then trips to the slightly bigger town for supplies.  
As Eliza stepped up to the booth, the vendor held out a peculiar potted plant with leaves that had crinkled purple edges. “Sure to enhance fertility with only a touch!” the vendor said just as Eliza was reaching for a leaf.  
“ _No_ —thank you,” her husband said in a light tone as he popped between them in the nick of time, taking the pot and setting it back down on the booth. “My wife’s plenty fertile just the way she is, thank you very much.” He took Eliza’s hand and began to turn.  
“With just the one…?” the vendor pointed to Isaac.  
“And another you can’t see yet,” he said with a toothy smile.  
“Ah,” she nodded with a grin.  
As they darted off hand-in-hand, Eliza struggled to keep up with him for a few steps, her stray hair fluffing away from her face for a moment. “Well—Arthur!” she huffed a laugh. “How do you know it’s me?”  
“What you mean?” he paused to look at her.  
“I _mean_ , how do you know it’s me? Maybe _you’re_ the ‘fertile’ one, Arthur,” she said cheekily as she continued to walk past him.  
Glancing down, his brows came together for a moment at the thought. Then he quickly ran a couple steps to catch up with her. “Well all right, so it’s probably the both of us,” he mumbled, garnering a laugh.  
When they passed a jeweler’s shop, something snagged his eye. As Eliza continued walking down the boardwalk, he paused and peered through his reflection in the window to see a sapphire necklace with a gold chain on display. He grinned to himself before turning to catch up with her again. And with that, Arthur knew he’d saved up for over three years to buy her that thing. And then gave it to her on a normal, average day, for no particular reason.  
The three of them continued towards the grocer, Arthur and Eliza falling into step side by side. When they passed the train station, a flurry of people came out onto the boardwalk. And just like that, Eliza realized only after it had happened that she’d taken a step alone. She looked up and turned to see Arthur staring wide-eyed at a woman who’d come out of the train station—dark hair tied neatly back into a low bun, dainty brown eyes, and a clean, fine, distinguished dress.  
“ _Mary_.”  
The sound of her name on her own husband’s lips was like a thunder clap overhead and sent her face spinning back in his direction. Nothing but the shade in his eyes was recoiling, looking as if he’d been snapped at by a viper.  
She looked back at the woman. She seemed normal, sweet, even with kind eyes. She seemed no viper.  
She looked back at her husband and saw the look in his eyes—blue-green eyes she knew so well, better than the back of her hand—but it was a foreign look in them. And only when she looked again at the woman did she realize she was looking at him in a similar way. And it all happened so quick—the sinking realization that knowing her name was only the beginning of what he knew.  
“What are you doing here?” the two of them said at the exact same time.  
“Well, I…” the woman swallowed and glanced down, her face draining of color. “I’m visiting an old friend who moved to this area.”  
**“What the hell is she doin’ here?”** Arthur said, his jaw jutting to the side as he stared warily from the corners of his eyes at the brewing predicament. **“She don’t belong in my dreams. I don’t want her here. Get her out!”** he waved an arm angrily.  
“What about you?” the woman asked, glancing to the side and only just then realizing Eliza was standing there with Isaac on her hip.  
Stuttering a bit, he replied, “We’re makin’ our trip for necessities. This is my lovely wife, Eliza,” he brought his hand to her back as she took a tiny step forward, “and our son Isaac.”  
Eliza smiled and bent at her knees, dipping just a little for a curtsy, then looked at Isaac. “Say hi, Isaac.”  
“Hi,” he smiled big. Holding up to fingers he added, “Ine two.”  
“Two and three-quarters next week actually,” Eliza chuckled. “He likes to tell everybody. And we got another on the way,” she looked down and brought a hand to the small bulge of her belly. “I’m just a few months along.” But when she looked up again, the woman’s face was hazy; her eyes were on them, but her brows were lifted, and her expression was somewhere far away.  
“It’s—” she cleared her throat. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She slowly looked back at Arthur and addressed only him. “It’s been so long.”  
“Yeah, I…guess so.”  
As Eliza stood adjacent to them, she looked up at Arthur’s eyes, then at hers, and continuously back and forth between them.  
And suddenly the woman was taking Arthur gently by the elbow, and the two of them were walking off several feet away. He didn’t say, ‘Wait here a minute.’ He didn’t even look back. And she watched as they exchanged words out of her ear shot. Her husband. And a stranger.  
“Mama, Mama,” Isaac murmured, pointing to a newspaper barker just a couple steps away. “I ca have, peas?”  
She walked over and took a coin from the hidden pocket of her waistband, placing it in the newsboy’s palm and letting Isaac take the newspaper.  
“He likes the pictures,” she tried to smile. But before long, her smile had faded, and she was forlornly looking back in the direction of Arthur and the woman.  
**“No, no, _no!”_** Arthur shouted. **“Look, you’re leavin’ little Eliza out in the cold! It ain’t right, now! You get back over there and fix it! Don’t you _dare_ ruin the best thing that ever happened to you!”** he demanded, pointing back at Eliza as he stomped over to where the pair were chatting. And he was just in time to hear part of what they’d said.  
Mary gazed off in Eliza’s direction and commented quietly, “Salt of the earth…I see?”  
He followed her gaze to see Eliza hurriedly bending to pick up a page of the newspaper that Isaac had dropped with him still held to her hip as his melodious giggle lilted through the air. While she was midway back to a standing position, he began to peel another page away with the clear intention of dropping it, having enjoyed her response a little too much and beginning to make a mischievous game out of it. But she caught sight of him and quickly stopped him before he could.  
_“Unh-uh, little mister_ ,” he could just barely make out her laugh.  
He grinned at the sight, and it quickly bloomed into a bright smile. “Yeah,” he nodded. “Yeah, that’s exactly right.”  
When Eliza had gathered the newspaper pages and stood up straight, she saw Arthur walking back to her with strong, firm steps and a grin, and the woman was nowhere to be seen.  
When he got to her, he immediately brought both hands to each side of her neck under her jaw and planted a big, deep, sloppy kiss on her mouth, not letting her get away for a breath for several moments.  
She closed her eyes and brought her free hand to his back as the newspaper crunched between them, tilting her chin up just a little to properly meet him. And when he finally slowly and gently drew away from her lips, she was grateful and relieved for the look she saw in his eyes.  
On their way home in the wagon, Isaac sat between them. She looked over him at her husband and finally nervously asked if she could ask.  
“‘Course you can,” he chuckled, keeping his eyes on the rugged path as it jostled him in the seat. “I got no secrets from you, Eliza. She was… Well, we were engaged. Back in the day. Never made it past that.”  
“ _Fiancée?_ ” she whispered, her brows pinching up a bit as she looked forward at nothing.  
“We were young. Real, real young. A bit younger than you when I first met you. She went off and got married, and…I had the gang.”  
“You musta been heartbroken.”  
“Sure,” he drawled. He peeked over from the corner of his eyes to see her downcast face as she mulled over this new pain from his past.  
“Did—” she almost swallowed back her meek voice. She couldn’t understand why she wanted to know so much, especially why this one question was bludgeoning the back of her mind. “Did the two of you…ever…?”  
“Nah. She wanted to wait ‘til we were married, and…that day never came.” He thought a little more about her perspective. “But sweetheart, you know I’d been to see…workin’ girls…a couple times before you. Wasn’t a saintly monk, by any stretch a’ the imagination,” he tried to chuckle as he looked over at her.  
She nodded.  
“Ain’t the same as when I’m with you. Ain’t even on the same planet.”  
She looked up, a little grin starting to appear on the corner of her mouth.  
“Yeah, you like that,” he smiled. “It’s way off even farther the moon!” he proclaimed, standing for a moment and waving his arm off the side of the wagon seat. And when he sat down again and looked back at her, she was grinning brighter, trying to hold down a chuckle.  
“Hey. You an’ me? We’re one,” he continued. “Celtic souls. Huh?” He watched her nod again as he held the reins. “We made a vow. An oath. Ain’t nothin’ comin’ between us. It’s all in the past, darlin’. All of it. Only thing that matters about it, is it brought me to you.” He smirked and gave his head a single shake as he looked forward again. “You make me a better person, Eliza. You and Isaac. Ain’t no two ways about it.”  
After it had grown quiet she asked, “What…what’d you say to her?”  
“She asked me if I’m happy.” He turned to look at her with a small grin and a soft gaze. “Told her I’m happier than I’ve ever been or ever thought I could be.”  
As she looked back at him, her smile finally grew the brightest it had been all day.  
A little while later Isaac noticed something that peaked his curiosity on the side of the dirt road, and he shouted, “Daddy! _Stop!_ ”  
Arthur pulled the reins just as Isaac began to stand and look past his mother over the edge, and Eliza brought her hands around him to steady him.  
“Doggy, Daddy! Look, doggy!” he pointed.  
Arthur stood and looked over the two of them to see a sorry sight. The black, white, and red hound was lethargic and forlorn as he lied alone with his chin in the dirt and his paws near his face. His eyelids were drooping up and down, and a couple patches of his fur were missing right down to the skin.  
“We ca take him hooome? Peeaaas?” Isaac asked.  
His father grimaced and winced sourly. “Eh…he’s sickly, Isaac. Don’t know how long he’ll even last.”  
“He need a fwend! He sad! I be his fwend, Daddy! I his fwend!” He nodded back and forth between his mother and father. “We ca take care a' him! An’ make him all bettew!”  
Eliza clucked her tongue with empathy. “Look at him, honey…”  
“Oh, no. Don’t do that to me.”  
“Well, Isaac’s not far from wrong! We can do what we can for him. Look, he’s all alone…in distress…”  
Arthur groaned and wiped his hand over his face before looking back at the dog. “You sure that’s the one you want, Isaac—” But when he looked back at the two of them in the seat beside him, they were already looking up at him with big, pleading doe eyes. “Agh, god!” he slapped the heel of his hand between his eyes and scrunched his nose.  
He immediately hopped down from his side of the wagon seat. “Bleedin’ hearts, the both of ‘em,” he muttered low, though he couldn’t avoid a smirk.  
He came around and stooped to pick up the dog, but when he moved him, he let out a little yelp of a cry and began to squeak and whimper and whine.  
“Ah, sh… He’s got a broken hind leg. Most would just put him down.”  
“Poor thing, I can make him a splint when we get home! I bet he’s starving!” Eliza said.  
He sighed and proceeded to carefully scoop him up to his chest and take him to the back of the wagon. “Probably infested with fleas…” he murmured.  
Isaac intently watched him place him in the wagon bed. “Yay! I name him Bustew,” he clapped with a big smile.  
“Buster?” Eliza asked.  
He nodded quickly.  
“That’s a perfect name,” she smiled.  
“And you make him your special soup, Mama? When we get home? So we ca’ make him all bettew?”  
“Sure, I can make that for him, Isaac,” she said as his father got back into his seat and rode on. “But he’s gonna need a lot more help. All different kinds. And we’ll be sure to give him all the help we can.”  
She kept waiting for Isaac to turn back around in his seat, but he stayed on his knees, looking back into the wagon bed at the dog.  
Arthur watched a slow flash of images as over the next number of months, they brought the dog as close to mended and healthy as they could get him. Fed well, rid of fleas, walking again, with a replenished, shiny coat of fur. He even had a spark in his eyes, though his lethargy seemed to hang on a bit. And he and Isaac became thick as thieves. Wherever one went, the other followed not far behind. Isaac would talk to him, and Buster would cuddle up and kiss him. They were so close that when Isaac turned three, he said he didn’t want anything for his birthday. He already had all he wanted with Mama, Papa, and Buster.  
When the images stopped playing, he watched his younger self step through the front door, dressed in his vest and hat, to find Eliza sitting at the kitchen table with a plate of food. He sat across from her and handed her a brown paper bag.  
“Dropped Isaac and Buster off with Addie. She griped about the dog, but I told her they won’t be separated,” he chuckled.  
Eliza quickly licked her fingers and opened the paper bag, but paused. “No pickles?”  
His eyes went wide, and he hung his head. “Knew I forgot somethin’.”  
“It’s all right. I can make some,” she smiled, taking out the bottle of hot sauce he’d gone all the way into town to buy for her.  
He watched her uncork it and pour it onto her bowl of mashed potatoes, letting it run freely. And when he’d thought for sure that she should’ve had enough, still she added a bit more. Watching her stir it into the mashed potatoes and take a bite, he grimaced.  
She quickly scarfed it down and moved onto a plate covered with biscuits, roast chicken, and green beans. Without missing a beat, she was halfway done before long.  
When she noticed him staring at her, she almost whined, “I’m so hungry, baby, I’m _so_ hungry.”  
He started to smirk. “Me baby, or that baby?” he motioned to her abdomen under the table with a smirk.  
“You baby,” she smiled bright with a chuckle.  
Watching the two of them, Arthur walked around the table to see her big belly. From what he could tell, she must’ve been somewhere around six or seven months along.  
“Well, you’re eatin’ for two, so makes sense. You eat to your heart's content. Ain’t nobody stoppin’ ya,” his younger self said, letting his hand rest on the table top. “Just the cravin’s that got me gawkin’. I know pickles are your favorite thing, but the way you put ‘em away these days…” he shook his head. “And the way you pour hot sauce…”  
Wiping her hands on her apron, she watched him as he spoke, hardly hearing a word he’d said for a moment. And with a rosy grin, she said warmly as she reached out and touched his hand on the table, “You know…what _else_ …I been cravin’?”  
When he saw his fingers interlacing with hers, his eyes popped up to her. “ _Oh_ no. No. I’ve told you already!”  
Her shoulders slumped, and she groaned. “Arthur! This is ridiculous! You _ain’t_ gonna hurt me or the baby. You ain’t! And I’m just burnin’ for my husband,” she let her head sag back and pouted her bottom lip, blowing her air out of her face as she looked at him.  
She reached out for his hand again, her voice growing soft and dreamy. “You know I don’t regret Isaac at all. Sometimes I wish though, that…we had a little more time to ourselves. Just you an’ me.” She looked past him, biting her lip as she began to daydream. “I’d take you out in the wilderness, find a nice little waterfall. Get our clothes off and get you under it, and kiss you all over. All over.” She glanced back into his eyes. “‘Course, in my imagination, I’ve got my slim tummy back.”  
Lifting his eyebrows, he swallowed and blinked as she brought him back out of the daydream.  
“Well, you’ll just have to give me a trimmed-down version of that,” she said.  
“Damn. Pregnancy really has gotchyou hot-blooded.”  
“I’m just achin’ for you, honey, please?”  
“No,” he shook his head with a wheeze, “no.”  
“I thought you said you’d do anything to make me feel good.”  
“Anything but that.”  
“Well, you…you make me feel like I got the plague or somethin’!” she flew her arms up and let them drop, beginning to go into a tizzy. “I blew up like a hot air balloon, and sometimes I feel about as appealin’ as a gap-toothed beaver,” she grumbled. “Meanwhile, you’re over there lookin' like a…like a…” she bit her lip as her eyes drifted down over him.  
“Careful.”  
“Like a mythical creature damn near carved from marble and come to life. Anyways—” she shook her head to clear it. “I know I ain’t much of a sight right now, but am I that repulsive to you?”  
“Eliza,” he sighed, “it ain’t that. That ain’t a problem at all, believe me. I’ve told you—”  
“I thought you were supposed to be studyin’ midwifin' stuff, like Addie told you, in preparation! She told me I’m built tough! And I’m tellin’ _you_ ,” she got up and came around the table to sit in his lap, “you can’t hurt me or the baby,” she said quietly and sweetly.  
She kissed his neck over and over and whispered, “Please, baby, please. Nothin’ in the world compares to you, and I miss you. It’s only right.” She inched her way up toward his ear lobe, taking it in her mouth and giving it a little suck before nibbling it and letting him hear her sigh softly. “Look how nice I’m askin’, hm?”  
“ _Shyit_ ,” he finally muttered, scurrying up out of the chair and leaving her to plop onto the seat by herself. “Enough, all right?” He tried to chuckle, but it left him in a nervous, wheezy way. He cleared his throat and smoothed his voice, trying to sound stern and certain of himself. “Doctor's on his way, probably be here any minute.”  
She let out a loud, throaty groan and threw her head back in frustration as he walked off. “Oh, come _on!_ ”  
And when Arthur blinked, he was standing back in the bedroom watching the doctor conduct a routine check on Eliza where she sat on the edge of the bed while his younger self stood nearby. He was timing her pulse, taking her temperature, and making sure everything was normal.  
Finally he asked her to lie back on the bed while conducted his last medical test.  
“Any overly severe aches and pains to report?” he asked while she removed her drawers and lifted her feet onto the bed. “Heart palpitations? Blood when you relieve yourself?”  
“No, nothin’ like that,” she replied.  
“I appreciate you comin’ all this way, doc,” Arthur said as he held her hand. “She’ll have me and the midwife, come delivery. But Eliza had some concerns a while back, got it in her head she could miscarry, and… Well, I just wanna make sure we’re doin’ everything we can to prevent that.”  
“Miscarriage can happen from time to time. Usually when something's wrong with the mother's health or she isn’t getting proper nutrition,” the middle-aged man said quietly. “But I don’t see any cause for alarm so far. While it can happen when nothing seems the matter, that’s a bit more on the rare side. Now you’ll feel a bit of pressure, Mrs. Morgan.”  
She nodded, and they watched as his hand went under her skirt and up between her thighs.  
“Ah!” she suddenly whimpered with a hiss.  
“Did I hurt you?” the doctor asked, looking up.  
“No, it’s… Arthur, dearest, you’re gonna break my hand.”  
Arthur looked down and let go of her hand, though his jaw still flared.  
“Sorry to make you uncomfortable, Mr. Morgan.”  
Arthur lifted his hat and ran his hand through his hair before replacing it. “Nah, I…saw the midwife do somethin’ similar when she delivered our first. Now the doc… You’d think by now I’d ‘a gotten used to folk puttin’ their hands where they don’t belong,” he mumbled.  
She looked up at him from the corner of her eyes with a deep smirk.  
After a couple minutes, the doctor declared everything on Eliza seemed as well as could be. Arthur paid him, and she offered him lunch for his travels. And as the three of them sat at the kitchen table, Arthur by her side and the doctor across from them, an all-too-wicked but delicious idea presented itself to her. And she just couldn’t resist.  
“Doctor,” she began sweetly, “in all your study and medical expertise…” she looked down at the table with a sober expression, “is there anything you know of to suggest that a husband and pregnant wife couldn’t…” she looked up at the ceiling, “or shouldn’t, rather…” she looked him in the eyes with a smile, “enjoy those most… _intimate_ of relations?”  
Arthur immediately choked hard on his bite and fought to get air flow. Meanwhile she kept her eyes on the doctor, her smile sugar-sweet and undaunted.  
“You didn’t,” Arthur rasped, looking at her beside him as he pounded his own chest.  
“I’m askin’ the good doctor to give his expert medical opinion about somethin’ that vexes me, a pregnant woman,” she said calmly.  
“That’s right, a _pregnant_ woman! Look—I ain’t talkin’ about this with another man, all right? Ain’t decent,” he waved her off, as if trying to make the whole situation go away as he shook his head and took a sip of water.  
“He’s a _doctor!_ ”  
“I’ve made it my life’s goal to understand and try to mend the human body,” he said, wiping his hand on a napkin. “And I’ve been married for over thirty years,” he smiled simply at Arthur. “You can hardly scandalize me.”  
Eliza looked at Arthur to her right with big, brazen eyes as she held her palm out before her to make her point. “Please tell him he _can’t_ hurt me or the baby,” she said as she slowly looked forward at the doctor.  
“Ah,” he said, looking up at Arthur. “While I appreciate your concern and do admire your commitment to abstain from something you thought might harm your wife and child, Mr. Morgan, there is absolutely nothing to suggest you could do so.”  
“ _See!_ ” she exclaimed.  
“I mean, barring any discomfort she might feel…” he continued under her voice. “You might have to…get creative…adjust a few things…from your typical romantic interlude, depending on the day, how she feels of course,” he nodded his head to the side.  
“Aaagh…” Arthur grumbled low and rubbed the back of his neck, already far too uncomfortable.  
But the doctor continued, “And being overly rough, while certainly not necessary, probably isn’t a good idea.”  
“ _See!_ ” he fired back at her.  
“No, no,” the doctor chuckled, waving a hand. “I didn’t mean to say… Lovemaking during pregnancy can actually help to alleviate a lot of aches and pains, improve sleep…help prepare for a better delivery… It can be quite natural considering what her body’s going through. And…most importantly, you’ll both need to feel as connected as possible to each other right now. I meant to allay your concerns, Mr. Morgan.”  
“Well, I ain’t convinced. She’s the one was concerned. And I ain’t willin’ to risk it. Jesus! As it is, our baby’s gonna be a feisty firebrand,” he gestured to his wife and let his hand drop.  
“Hey. What I am, is a properly married woman, livin’ in my own damn house, raisin’ our son, growin’ a baby, and burnin’ to no end for my baby.”  
The doctor’s eyes slid over to Arthur. “And your pecker’s been hangin’ limp and dry for how long?”  
“ _PFHAH!_ ” came Eliza’s immediate and involuntary burst of squeaky laughter, and she quickly covered her wide smile with both hands, while at the same time her husband shook his head and let out a weak, whimpered sigh of air as he lifted his hat, bringing it down to cover his eyes for a moment.  
**“Oh, good god…”** Arthur groaned and rested his hand over his face in severe secondhand embarrassment as he shook his head. **“It’s just too much. Cut a man down to size, why don’t ya?”**  
As his younger self replaced his hat atop his head, he connected eyes with his wife, her hands still plastered over her mouth. “W-well, we h-haven’t…” he began, gesturing to her.  
Her brows drew up tight and her shoulders slumped as she removed her hands. “Oh, it’s been months and months, doctor,” she whined as she looked back at the doctor. “Since before my belly was still small. I don’t even think we’ve made love at all since we found out! And it makes me feel like some disgustin’ wretch.”  
“I told you that ain’t it, darlin’!”  
She looked down over her husband and said through clenched teeth, “And you’re keepin’ that fine, tight…scrumptious, delicious body from me. _No more!_ ” she slammed her hand flat down on the table with the last words. But looking into his eyes, she immediately fought a bubbling little laugh through her nose.  
“Well, don’t objectify me at all, now,” he fought a smirk.  
“Oh…you’ll just have to make love to your adoring, pregnant wife. Poor baby,” she pouted her bottom lip in mock sympathy.  
“E _liza!_ What has gotten into you, woman?”  
“Aw, look, he’s embarrassed!” she clucked her tongue with a big smile and glanced in the doctor’s direction. “Ain’t he so charmin’ when he gets like that?”  
“Hoohh, god, I can’t win,” he whined. “You know, this really has gotten outta hand. She ain’t usually like this,” he looked at the doctor, shaking his head with a nervous chuckle.  
“No, no! Don’t change the subject!” she said, touching her finger to the table top. “Your wife needs you in a very specific way, and it’s time you helped her out. Damn well past time,” she nodded matter-of-factly.  
He finally paused and sighed as he looked at her. When he spoke, his voice was somewhat quiet and timid. “Well here I was thinkin’ it was s’posed to be special,” he shrugged one shoulder up just a bit. “You know…mean somethin’.”  
Her shoulders relaxed again, and she reached out to cover his hand on the table top. “Of _course_ it does, Arthur! And how you think it makes me feel that we’ve gone so long without it?”  
Moving only his eyes, the doctor looked back and forth between them and finally began to stand from his chair. “I think it’s time for me to go,” he said, picking up his leather tote and donning his bowler. “And if it helps you sleep tonight, Mr. Morgan, you can tell yourself that doctor’s orders are for you to comfort your wife. Have lots of sex,” he nodded with a smile as he walked around the table.  
Arthur got up to see him to the door, and Eliza followed behind, hopping out of her seat and nearly clapping.  
“Hey, thank you again, doc, for comin’ all this way and for…bein’ patient with us,” he chuckled as he opened the door for him.  
“Yes, thank you, thank you, doctor!” she grinned and waved, biting her lip and rocking onto the balls of her feet.  
“My pleasure,” he lifted a hand as he walked towards his horse. “Best wishes for a healthy delivery. I look forward to seein’ that baby.”  
When Arthur closed the door and turned, Eliza was standing there looking up at him with a big grin.  
“Hmm-hmm-mmm,” she mumbled and lifted her brows a couple times, turning gently back and forth at the hip with her hands behind her back. And her own brazen absurdity forced her to hold down a bubbling laugh.  
A truncated chuckle caught in his throat at the sight. “Such a dope. Come on,” he nearly rolled his eyes with a grin as he took her by the hand and headed for the bedroom.  
She immediately responded with an ecstatic, giddy whoop as he tugged her and she hobbled to keep up. “Oo! Could you do that thing where you kiss my neck? Pretty please?” she begged as they crossed the bedroom threshold and he closed the door behind them.  
“What, like this?” he said wryly, swinging her gently so her back was up against the wall, matching her smile as he came close and pressed his lips to her neck—softly and rather chastely at first, then letting her feel the warmth of his mouth and listen to the clicks of his tongue against her skin until she was moaning.  
“Enough! Enough messin’ around, Arthur! No more!” she suddenly erupted and pushed him in the chest a bit.  
“What!” he couldn’t help but laugh. “You asked for that!”  
“Off,” she looked down at him, trying to tear his clothes free.  
“Off?”  
“ _Off_. Right now.”  
“Well, don’t rip at it. Ain’t no need for that,” he mumbled, slinking his vest and shirt off and quickly fumbling with his belt buckle while she began to unbutton her day dress.  
And before Arthur knew it, they were both naked, hardly able to keep their hands and mouths off each other as they rushed for the bed.  
Arthur closed his eyes and turned on his heels before he saw anything else. But he couldn’t escape the sounds of their lovemaking, her moaning and whining, whimpering and sighing, louder than maybe he’d ever heard her before.  
**“Ah, shit,”** he muttered under his breath, clapping his hands over both ears. **“You know—havin’ to know it should be happenin’ to me, but not actually havin’ it happen to me, _while_ havin' to listen to it, is gettin’ old real quick. Sure, I miss her in every way, and this is definitely one of ‘em. But this is some kinda cruel, twisted punishment. Somehow, I…bet it’s even better when you’re…close and on good terms like that.”**  
But as he said it, she cried out and started to sigh and calm, and he realized thankfully that she must’ve been pretty worked up already, since it hadn’t taken long.  
When he turned back around, they were sitting side by side back against the headboard, and his younger self had a hand under her jaw as they softly kissed.  
“Baby liked that,” she smiled against his lips.  
“Oh yeah?”  
“Dancin’ all around,” she nodded, rubbing her belly.  
He brought his hand beside hers, and when he looked down at her belly with a smile, they were cheek-to-cheek. “You’d think we woulda rocked her to sleep.”  
“Her?” she looked up at him. “You really are set on a girl.”  
“Nah, just…father’s intuition,” he grinned and kissed her again.  
When they finally drew apart, he turned and reached for his cigarettes on the nightstand at his side of the bed. Dipping her head, she watched as he took one from the pack, left it between his lips, lit it, and took a puff.  
Hefting her big belly, she got out of bed and waddled to the vanity, the pads of her bare feet softly tapping across the hardwood floor. She went into the drawer and pulled something with a crinkly wax paper wrapper, pulling it out and promptly popping the end of it into her mouth.  
Her husband’s eyes came together as he tried to figure out what she had, then his eyes grew wide as he realized what it was. “Where’d you get that?”  
“Ain’t tellin’,” she mumbled past it. But she couldn’t keep from grinning. “The grocer’s, of course!”  
“What flavor?”  
“Sassafras.”  
“I want some,” he said, mashing his cigarette in the ashtray. “Give it here.”  
“No-ho-ho!” she laughed, taking the lollipop from her mouth. “You’re worse than Isaac. He always says please.” And she quickly popped it back into her mouth.  
He looked at her flatly.  
Taking it from her mouth again, she said, “Promise me you won’t keep yourself from me anymore, and I’ll give you some.”  
He tilted his head to the side and grinned. “You don’t need to bribe me, sweetheart.”  
“It’s just that…things are changin', Arthur,” she rubbed the top of her bare belly.  
“I know, we’re goin’ through a lot,” he nodded as she continued quietly. “ _You_ definitely are,” he chuckled.  
“And…a-and I just wanna know that…that we’ll always have each other…and be close, and…”  
“C'm ‘ere,” he said with a soft grin, patting the bed beside him. “C'mon.”  
She waddled back and climbed slowly, with a tad bit of difficulty all the way back into bed.  
“I know you’re goin’ through a lot right now,” he said quietly. “One minute you’re wantin' to jump my bones, and the next, you’re nearly a little puddle a’ tears.”  
Her brows drew tight, and her expression somehow oscillated between a slight smile and a pained frown as she nodded firmly and slowly.  
“It’s like…ocean waves. Or shifts in the weather. I know you ain’t ever seen the ocean. Yet,” he grinned softly, enjoying the sight of her grin in return. “It’s a lotta change. It’s life. But you know you’re stuck with me, honey. We’ll keep each other on dry land. Hm?” He brought a hand softly to the edge of her jaw and came close. “You gonna be with me when I’m a crotchety, ornery ol’ coot?” He smiled when he’d gotten her to burst into a smile.  
“You mean yesterday?”  
“ _Ooohhh!_ You got me,” he said low while she laughed. “Mmm, I am a lucky ol’ fool, that’s right. ‘Cause you’re the…mother of my children,” he whispered between kisses to her soft lips, “Pretty mama… Best mama I’ve ever known… My sweetheart.”  
“I love bein' pregnant—you know that, right?” she pulled back a bit to look into his eyes.  
“Mm.”  
“And makin’ and raisin' babies with you.”  
“Mmm…” he grinned against her lips.  
“But I ain’t…awful annoyin' to you these days?”  
“Mnh-mm,” he shook his head.  
“Too…needy?”  
“Well, my woman needs me! Imagine that. About as much as I need her. Sign me up,” he lifted his chin with a smirk. But it slowly grew bright in time with her smile. “And you got it all wrong, you know. What you said before. You’re still a stunner, got me practically droolin' at the mouth.”  
“ _Nooo!_ ” she said low, her brows scrunched together as she pulled away to look at him in disbelief.  
“Mm-hm,” he grinned down at her. “And I love kissin’ you here…” he mumbled against her mouth, “and here…” he pressed his lips to her chin and jaw, making his way down her neck. “Here…” he mumbled. And though she couldn’t see it, he started to smirk wryly against her skin as he brought his hand down under her belly between her thighs. “Here.”  
His smile brightened when a chirpy giggle leapt out of her, and she teasingly pushed him a bit. But he was undaunted and continued kissing her throat.  
“That _was_ a pretty good one, huh?” she smiled.  
“One a’ the…best we’ve ever had,” he chuckled.  
“Lucky Isaac wasn’t here. He woulda heard us.”  
“Heard you, at least.”  
“S-stop it!” she swatted him.  
“Weren’t much work,” he grinned. “You were already worked up to such a lather—”  
“A-Arthur,” she laughed, and when he sat up to look at her, she offered the lollipop, holding it out to his face.  
And without a word, he took it in his mouth as she let go.  
“Don’t crunch it,” she said.  
“Hm?” he gave her a quizzical look.  
“You always crunch a part of it off!”  
“Well it’s candy, ain’t it? S'posed to be eaten!”  
Pursing her lips, she fought a grin and shook her head.  
But he rolled it around, and after a few seconds took it from his mouth and held it back out to her.  
She took it and popped it back in her mouth. But before long, she’d removed it again. “Want another go?” she asked with twinkling eyes.  
He smiled brightly and came close, kissing her as they reclined back onto the bed together.  
Without looking, she hurriedly reached for the nightstand, feeling around for the top and setting the lollipop there.  
“Put it back in the wrapper, you’ll get the table all sticky,” he said.  
“Who _cares?_ ” she said in a strained whisper, garnering a wheezy laugh.  
And the scene melted and blended into something else, until Arthur was watching his younger self come through the front door one day after a long afternoon working hard and tending to the land.  
He immediately plopped onto the sofa and slumped deep into the seat with a sigh.  
“Hi, Daddy,” Isaac said from his place on the bear rug near the hearth with the dog.  
“Hey there, son,” he smiled at him. And he closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of Isaac playing with the train set he’d gotten him.  
“Tickets. We gotta make sure all the people have tickets, Buster. Otay? Or they can’t come on the choo-choo. And, um…and we’re gonna take ‘em from Misty Willow…to Strawberry…all the way to Saint Denis. But you gotta make sure they all got their tickets. Otay?”  
But when he felt someone removing his boots, he opened his eyes and looked down to see Eliza on her knees before him. He immediately opened his mouth to protest, but his voice caught in his throat when the feel of release that came from his boots slipping off his stiff, aching feet was just too heavenly.  
He took exception though, when he saw her with a shoe brush, boot polish, and cloth, and realized she had a mind to bring a shine to his boots right then and there.  
“Naw, naw, get up off the floor, darlin’. Up off your knees. C’mon.”  
She looked up at him. “I don’t mean to demean myself, Arthur. I know you like your boots kept. I’m just trying to show you love.”  
He watched in somewhat of an awestruck and deeply touched state as she quickly brushed the dirt and grime away from each boot and rubbed the polish into the leather until they gleamed almost like new. And wiping her hands on the apron draped over her big belly, she shifted to his feet, rubbing her thumbs into his arches.  
“Keepin' you on dry land,” she smiled softly up at him when he couldn’t help but release a little moan. “Help me back up when I’m done, and we’ll call it square.”  
He smiled. “Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...😶...
> 
> Mary who? 🤷
> 
> You guys are ALL simply the BEST. Truly!
> 
> Shout out to guest reader Jay. 😊 I had the seed of the opening scene, but the rest with Hosea came to me only after reading your comment. I'm so glad you commented. 💕
> 
> I know we're in a phase in the work where there aren't too many present day scenes and it's more of the dreams, and it's quite different from what I've usually written. But I hope it's still enjoyable and makes sense. And I hope you can hang with me. I have plans for more present day scenes down the road.
> 
> I always work hard on the chapters, and you're all always encouraged to share your thoughts with me, whatever they may be!
> 
> Side note just for posterity that I'm not a Mary-hater. ☺
> 
> Love to all, and I hope this brings some light into your week. 💕
> 
> Rosie


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear subscribers and anyone else who voted--thank you!
> 
> For those unaware, I posted a little poll to get some input on a scene in this chapter.
> 
> I was nervous for a moment when it was split down the middle, but you guys really came through for me with 9 total votes! (How exciting!) Thank you ever so much, and I hope it was a bit of fun for you.
> 
> Read on to see which which option prevailed!
> 
> P.S. My sincere apologies if Ch 13 made you uncomfortable or seemed in poor taste! My explanation for *that* scene was just that it was a slice of married life and cute&funny (imho) pregnancy hormones, for which Arthur was indeed a very good sport. And just that they were both taking extra steps to make sure the other felt well-cared-for through uncertainty & life changes.
> 
> Either way, I *hope*😉 this chapter helps redeem me a little bit. ❤

The very next evening, Arthur’s dreams took him to the garden beside the homestead. It was morning, but the garden was still covered in the cool shade cast by the cabin, and the dew was still on the petals and leaves of the plants and vegetables.  
Eliza and Isaac were walking hand-in-hand and passed him as they entered the big, fenced garden area. And his younger self followed them and closed the gate behind them. He didn’t have his hat on, and he was dressed in relaxed blue jeans and a faded soft green shirt.  
They kept Buster outside the fence, and though he didn’t whine, he plopped down beside the fence to wait for his friend.  
Isaac immediately removed his little shoes and got down in the soft, dark dirt between the rows of plants on his belly. His mother set her thatched basket down and held her belly as she slowly sat criss-cross beside him.  
“Get down, Mama! Come down here with me,” Isaac waved for her to join him.  
“Oh, Mama can’t lie with you on her belly like she used to do right now,” she said. “Daddy will. Can Daddy do it with you?”  
“Yeah,” he nodded and waved him over. “Come on, Daddy.”  
Arthur got down on his knees and lied on his belly in the empty row of dirt across from Isaac. He propped himself up on one elbow and looked through the plants at his little son. “All right, what we got here?” he drawled. “Tell me what I’m lookin’ at.”  
“Well…” Isaac began, “we got bug plants and people plants.”  
“What you mean?”  
“Plants for bugs, and plants for people! So the bugs eat the leaves on their own plants an’…an’ not the people plants.”  
“Ah. So what kinda bug plants you got?”  
“Tomalalitos…”  
“Tomatillos,” Eliza said.  
“An’ radisses.”  
“Radishes,” she smiled.  
“Okay,” Arthur glanced at her with a chuckle. “And what kinda bugs are these crawlin’ all over the bug plants?”  
“Aphids…and ladybuds…”  
“Ladybugs,” Eliza giggled and scrunched her nose.  
“An’ cattypillers. Those are my favorite. ‘Cause they’re fuzzy. But Daddy, they don’t look like kitties,” he shook his head.  
“No?” he laughed.  
“No. But they like to crawl on you, see? And it tickles. And they don’t bite. And they make a home for themselves, and they turn into budderfies.”  
“Oh yeah?”  
“Yeah,” he nodded.  
“What about rabbits?”  
“Um, bunnies…juss eat everything. So you juss have to keep ‘em out. Even though I like ‘em.” He chuckled along with his dad.  
As Arthur watched Isaac, he felt Eliza’s hand rest on his calf, her thumb stoking him gently through his jeans. And he looked over to see her watching Isaac with a smile.  
He looked back at Isaac. “Hey, you sure are a smart kid. You remember all that?”  
“Mommy taught me,” he mumbled, still focused on the caterpillar.  
“Yeah, Mommy’s a good teacher, huh?” he said, his gravelly voice warm.  
“Mm-hm,” he nodded. “I bet she’s the best in the whole world.”  
“Oh, I’m sure she is,” he said in his low, playful-but-still-completely-serious tone that he only ever brought out for Isaac, and Eliza smiled his direction.  
He looked back at Isaac and watched his lashes, fanned out as they were atop his cheeks while he concentrated on replacing the delicate caterpillar. “After you put that caterpillar back on the leaf, you know what your next job is?”  
“Huh?”  
“Come over here an’ give Daddy a kiss.”  
Isaac’s face immediately relaxed into a smile, and he did as he was bade, getting up and walking the few steps barefoot in the soft dirt around the plants to his father.  
They played their usual kiss-tag back and forth, speeding up until finally Isaac grabbed his face and pressed his lips to his cheek hard and not letting up for a good several seconds.  
When he finally pulled away, he looked up into his eyes and said with a bright smile, “That’s a tillion, fillion, quadra-mamillion kisses right there.”  
“ _Oooohh!_ I bet I can beat ya!”  
“No!” Isaac smiled and gave his head a shake. “Unh-uh!”  
“You don’t wanna play this game with me,” he looked at him from the corner of his eyes.  
“No, you can’t beat me!” he giggled. And when he moved to kiss him again, his father turned quicker and planted a kiss on his cheek before he could, sending a chirping cackle flying out of him.  
Again and again they’d turn away as if not looking at each other, then Isaac would quickly try to kiss him, but his father would beat him to it with a kiss on his cheek.  
Finally Arthur dug his fingers into Isaac's sides and tickled him, and he writhed and jolted and cackled wildly. Every time his breathing would calm and he’d sigh in a low, weary tone, his father would pick right back up tickling him.  
Eliza laughed and giggled at the sight of them tickle-wrestling. When Arthur began to turn on his back with Isaac still in his arms, she gasped, “Don’t roll on the tomato plants!”  
He quickly froze and slowly began to roll back forward, causing Isaac to laugh and Eliza to giggle and sigh in relief with a hand to the side of her face.  
“You’re both too much,” she said through clenched teeth, reaching out and pinching Isaac’s big toe.  
Arthur was limp where he stood watching the trio, his heart a soggy, aching mess. **“I think this is one a’ the things I miss the most. ‘Cause we…we never quite had this. Did we? Never had you callin’ me ‘Daddy.’ Never had Eliza and I lookin’ at each other quite that way, so easy an’ natural. Never had so many free kisses an’ smiles from the most beautiful boy in the world.”**  
“You ready to check for eggs?” his younger self asked while Isaac’s breathing smoothed and calmed.  
“Yeah,” he smiled, still bit by the giggle bug, and still a bit wary of where his father’s hands were at all times.  
They stood, Arthur helped Eliza up to her feet, and the three of them walked over to the edge of the garden that shared a fence with the chicken coop. As Eliza and Isaac sat down again in the soft dirt of the garden, Arthur hitched one leg after the other up over the fence and went and ducked into the hen house, bringing back two handfuls of eggs. He leaned over the fence and gently handed them to Eliza, who brought them down into her lap to wipe them clean with her apron.  
Isaac quickly came close and peeked into her lap, carefully taking one of the brown eggs in his little hand. “They got freckles on ‘em, Mama. Like you an’ me!”  
“Yeah, I guess they do, huh?” she smiled, glancing up at Arthur where he stood leaning against the fence post with his forearms dangling and crossed lackadaisically, and she liked the easy grin she saw. “And lots of different people from places all over the world have freckles. Did you know that?”  
“What are freckles, anyway?” Isaac cocked his head a bit.  
“They’re angel kisses,” she said quietly.  
His eyes grew wide. “ _Whoa_. They musta licked Ollie!” he said, referring to one of the other children in town. “Have you seen his face an’ arms?”  
His father immediately let out a hearty laugh, and Eliza mumbled a giggle.  
“Yeah, I guess they couldn’t get enough of Ollie,” she smiled. Holding out an egg, she said to him, “Isaac, we wanna talk to you about somethin’. You know how eggs come from the mama chickens?”  
“Yeah,” he mumbled.  
“And you know how, inside the egg, there’s somethin’ different?” she pointed to the shell.  
“Yeah.”  
“What’s inside there?”  
“Umm…”  
“Come on, you know what’s inside there.”  
“Yeah, I know what’s inside, I seen it at breakfast. But I juss don’t know what to call it, ‘cause it’s also called egg.”  
His father scoffed a laugh and shook his head. “Sharp as a tack, this kid.”  
“Oh yeah…” she brought her lips inward. “But, I’m talkin’ about somethin’ else. Remember a little while ago, we all watched the eggs in the nest hatch…?”  
“Yeah,” he smiled.  
“What was in there?”  
“Baby chicks.”  
“Baby chicks, that’s right,” she smiled. She sat back and brought a hand to the top of her belly. “Isaac… Mama an’ Daddy have somethin’ to tell you.”  
His eyes went wide, and he looked up at her excitedly. “We gonna have more chickies?”  
“No,” she shook her head. “Not right now.”  
“Oh.”  
She bit her lip, watching him continue to look down at the eggs “How… How would you like a baby sister or brother? Would you like that?”  
“Um, no.”  
Her shoulders involuntarily slumped. “No?”  
“No tank you.”  
“Well, I…” she briefly glanced up in concern at Arthur, “I think you’d like that.”  
“Um, no.”  
“No?”  
“Nope.”  
“You could play with ‘em… Have fun together…”  
“No, no, no,” he mumbled quietly, still looking down innocently at the eggs, shaking his head. “I like to be your only baby.”  
“ _Crap_ …” Arthur mumbled under his breath. When she looked back up to see him bringing his hand over his mouth and sliding it to the side of his face, he shrugged one shoulder at her and tried to wheeze a chuckle, “Least he’s honest.” When her mouth hung wordless and daunted, his eyes grew, and mumbling, he gestured to nudge her onward. “Just come straight out with it, Mama.”  
“Isaac,” she licked her lips and looked back down at him, “there’s a reason Mama’s tummy’s gotten so big.”  
“Oh, _I_ know,” he closed his eyes and let his head sag to the side before looking up at her.  
“You do?”  
He reached out and rested his little hand on her big belly. “You ate too much yummy food. But iss otay. Iss otay. You were really hungies,” he patted her belly softly.  
“N-nah…” At a loss, she started to shake her head, and Arthur wheezed another laugh, letting his forehead drop into his palm.  
“I _sawl_ you,” Isaac continued patting her belly. “You were sure hungies. You needed that. Iss otay, Mama. Iss otay. And I love you with all my heart, no matter what you look like.”  
“W-well…that’s good to know…” she started to grin, her brows lifted in amusement.  
“Hey! She’s beautiful,” Arthur said matter-of-factly with stern brows.  
“Yup, she sure is,” Isaac tried to wink at him inconspicuously, but he ended up batting both eyes as he continued to pat her belly.  
“She is!”  
“That’s what I said,” Isaac sang.  
Eliza scoffed a laugh and brought her hand to the side of her face. “But no, that’s not why my tummy’s big, Isaac. Really.” She closed her eyes a moment and took a breath. “Mama’s havin’ a baby. You’re gonna have a little sister or brother.”  
The wheels in his head spun as he slowly looked down at her belly, then up at her face with one crimped brow.  
“And the baby’s in here,” she brought her hands down over her belly.  
“ _Nooo_ …” his brows came together. “That’s silly, Mama.”  
“Really! I swear. Hey, I want you to bring your mouth real close to my tummy and say, ‘Hi, this is Isaac.’ Just try it, please?”  
With a half-frown, he came close and did as he was bade.  
She gasped and smiled. “Works every time. Here, gimme your hand.” She quickly brought his little hand to her belly.  
His eyes shot to the size of oranges, and he yanked his hand back and scrunched his nose with a funny little wobbly smirk. “Wha-whoooa! How you do dat, Mama?!” He lifted his shirt and looked down at his own bare belly, trying to poke it out and suck it in real fast.  
She giggled hard and brought her hand over her mouth while Arthur laughed. “No, no! It’s not me! That’s what I been trying to tell you! There’s a baby in here!”  
He grew quiet and studied her gown-covered belly. “W-wow. Really?”  
“Really.” She quickly pulled her gown up to show the little bumps moving under her skin. “She likes her big brother’s voice. Wants to meet you.”  
His face relaxed into an awestruck smile.  
“Well, it could be a boy or girl. We don’t know yet. But you’ll have lots and lots of fun together. You’ll have a best friend built right in to your family. It’ll be a good thing. I promise you.” As he gazed at her belly, she brought her fingers under his soft little chin. “And you’ll be an amazing big brother. I know it.”  
“How’s the baby gonna come out?” his eyes popped up to her.  
“Uh, well…”  
“Outta here?” he rested a fingertip to her navel.  
“Yeah. Sure,” she said in a high, wobbly tone, nodding with drawn brows and a relieved grin.  
He grimaced sourly. “Ouchie.”  
“Yeah. Ouchie,” she let out an airy laugh. “But Daddy’s gonna be there for me. And Miss Addie’s gonna come over. And they’re gonna make sure everything goes all right. And Mama’s gonna be okay.”  
“ _Oo_ , I can show ‘im my favorite tree for climbin’! And skip rocks together! And play pirates an’ trains! And play with Buster!” the words spilled out of his mouth. “Can you get ‘im out tomorrow?”  
She chuckled and arranged her gown back over her belly. “No, I don’t think it’ll be tomorrow. And it could be a brother _or_ a sister, remember? But even if it’s a sister, when she grows up a little, you can still show her your tree for climbin'. And all the other stuff too.”  
“Otay! Imunna go tell Buster, otay?” He quickly got up and ran outside the gate to play with the dog.  
Eliza glanced at Arthur with a fatigued look and slumped shoulders as he hopped over the fence and came to help her up. “Whew. Didn’t think that was gonna be so hard.”  
“Eh… He’s a sharp kid. With a good heart,” he said as she leaned on him and they walked arm in arm together. “Somehow…I don’t think havin' two'll always be quite as straightforward an’ simple as raisin’ one. Least not like we thought.”  
“Well, we’ll figure it out together. Like we do everything,” she grinned. She brought her hand to his forearm. “But I really want us to make sure he knows we still love him, just as much. That we'll never forget about him.”  
“Oh, course,” he agreed.  
“It’s gonna be brand new to him too: bein’ a big brother…sharin’ our attention…”  
“Hmm… I think you worry too much.”  
“I’m a mother, Arthur,” she chuckled. “Ain’t that what we’re meant to do?”  
“Yeah, well…” he brought his hand over hers that rested over his arm and patted it as they reached the porch steps. “You just let us worry over you for a little bit. All right?”  
The scene shifted before Arthur to an evening after supper a couple weeks later. He saw Eliza standing at the kitchen counter, while his younger self sat with Isaac going over letters and numbers at the kitchen table. Addie was visiting, probably since it was closer to Eliza’s expected due date, and she was helping Eliza replace dishes to the cupboard.  
When Eliza let out a little moan and a sigh of air through pursed lips as she brought her hand down over her belly, his younger self quickly took notice.  
Since her back was turned to him, he spoke with a calm and even tone, though his expression didn’t change. “You doin' all right there, honey?”  
“Oh, yes,” she waved him off. “Yes, I’m okay. It’s nothin’.”  
But in a few minutes, she was sighing again, looking down and rubbing her belly.  
“You’re sure you’re all right,” he said calmly.  
“Mm…mm-hm,” she nodded.  
But in another few minutes, she was gripping the edge of the countertop, leaning forward, and bringing one hand underneath her belly and the other to her lower back.  
“All right, I’ve had about enough a' this,” he finally stood. “Addie, get the bed ready, and we’ll—”  
“It’s fine, I’m fine,” Eliza breathed with an airy laugh. “Really, it’s just indigestion. Nothing to get in a tizzy over.”  
Arthur’s eyes slid over to Addie.  
“Eliza dear, why don’t you take a walk with me round the table for a bit?” Addie said quietly. “It should help, either way. Hm?”  
“All right.”  
Addie slid her arm into hers, and they began to walk slowly around the table, over and over again, not pausing.  
“I think I’m all right now,” Eliza finally nodded.  
“No, I don’t think you are, dear,” Addie responded, and they continued walking around the table as Arthur took Isaac into his room and readied him for bed, with Buster following right behind Isaac.  
“You need to get your jammies on, Isaac,” she called. And she listened with a smile to the sound of Arthur pulling his sleeper onto him.  
“ _One leg…two legs… One arm… Ope—where's the other arm, sprout? Ah, there we go. Now did your mother have to put so many d— darn buttons on this thing?_ ”  
At one point Isaac came running up to her. “Mama, where’s my teddy?”  
“You left it in the chair by your bed.”  
“Ain’t there, darlin',” Arthur said from the bedroom.  
“Check…check in the nightstand drawer,” she called as Addie turned with her around the table.  
“It’s here, Isaac,” his father called.  
He scurried back into his bedroom, then ran back out a couple minutes later with his teddy in one arm, his little round belly buttoned up in his sleeper, and his tiny bare feet padding on the hardwood floor. “Could I have some water peas, Mama?”  
“Only one cup.” She paused to pour him a little cup from the porcelain pitcher and handed it to him. “Watch you don’t spill, okay?”  
As she turned though, she immediately heard a little trickle onto the floor and looked back at him. “Oh, honey, did you spill? You gotta hold with two hands—”  
“No, no, Mama, it wasn’t me. You went peepee on the floor.”  
She saw him looking down and pointing at a splatter on the floor between her feet. “Oh,” she said.  
“And _now_ , we really gotta get that bed ready,” Addie said. “Arthur, she lost her waters—” she began to call.  
“No, no, it’s just like Isaac said! I had a full bladder, is all,” she shook her head and waved as Arthur came into the room.  
“Yeah—labor’s really gonna start now,” he said, rushing to her and helping her lower herself gently down into a chair that was turned out from the table.  
“You’re all just makin’ too much of a fuss,” she wagged her head. “Arthur, all those midwifery textbooks gotcha all riled up. It’s nothin'.”  
“You remember what it was like with Isaac,” Addie turned her back to Eliza and whispered to him. “What an ordeal, and how close she was to—”  
“I was fine when I had Isaac, and I’m fine now. But it ain’t labor,” Eliza said, her frustrated tone beginning to rise.  
“We’re gonna need to boil some water, get the clean cloths ready, take the basin into the bedroom,” Arthur began to murmur to Addie quietly, counting on his fingers. “I’ll get my pocket watch so we can start timin' contractions…”  
“It ain’t labor, now!” Eliza finally tried to shout, but a pang shot through her, and she could only breathe it as she winced and held her belly.  
“Eliza, honey, you ain’t stupid,” Addie began. “Enough a’ this foolishness—”  
But as Arthur watched his wife, he waved her off. “Wait, wait.” He came and crouched in front of Eliza as she pursed her lips and let out a breath. The air stilled to a halt as he looked steadily into her eyes while she squirmed in discomfort. And he spoke calmly and slowly. “You do remember how it was with Isaac. You remember.”  
Her face was crimping with pain as she held his gaze.  
“All of it. Vividly.” He looked back and forth into her green eyes. “You know you’re in labor,” he continued. “And you’re afraid it’ll be like it was then. Or worse.” He wasn’t asking. And not a word of denial left her lips. “Not afraid. You’re terrified.”  
Her eyes began to swamp with tears, an inadvertent admission that everything he'd said was true. And a confirmation that no matter how hard she tried to shore such things up inside—to be her idea of strong and to keep from being a burden—he knew her better. He could see inside.  
The vulnerability that came with the scrutiny of his simple observation was a bit too much in the moment, with everything else her body was starting to go through, and she glanced down.  
But he reached out and gently brought his big hand around hers. He didn’t use words to ask her to look up at him. He simply waited until she did, knowing she would.  
“D’you think I woulda read three different midwifin’ books cover to cover, read words I never care to see on a page again…” It had been a bet on his part that he knew her well enough to know she wouldn’t be able to hold back a laugh at the comment. And he was glad when he saw a little huff of a laugh escape her through the discomfort.  
He smiled and chuckled along with her. Then his eyes demanded hers again. “If I didn’t believe in you?”  
She swallowed as his gaze again grew serious, his eyes still level with hers.  
“But it was all about you,” he continued. “The different parts of ya, how they all work together. How wonderful, how strong an’ amazin’ you are.” He nodded. “Those are the words for you.”  
She looked back and forth between his eyes, her pangs having eased a bit.  
“I know you might not feel that way right now. I know you’re strugglin’ with memories of the pain, and the fear. But I was there. I saw you dig down and pull out all that strength you got stored up inside you, when you thought about Isaac. And meetin’ him for the first time. All that joy, just bubblin’ up inside us.”  
Her brows drew tight, and she gave a broken little nod.  
“And that’s what you gotta think about now. To get you through. You did it once, I know you can do it again. And I’ll be right there with you, the whole time. I ain’t lettin’ nothin’ go wrong. I ain’t. You just do your best, an’ let me take care a' the rest. All right?” He brought his hand up and rested a thumb on her chin as she grinned and nodded. “Yeah?”  
“Yeah,” she whispered with another nod as he began to stand.  
“’At’s my Eliza,” he finally smiled as he stood, keeping his hand around hers.  
“Mama, can you sing to me? Could you sing me ni-night, peas?” came Isaac’s quiet little plea.  
“Isaac, no more stallin’,” his father said plainly. “Time for bed. We need you to be a big boy tonight.”  
But Eliza could see he knew something was different about tonight, that he was antsy to stick around and find out more about what was going on.  
“Isaac, sweetie, c'mere,” she managed to say through a wave of pain, her face scrunching a bit and beads of sweat starting to collect and slick down her temple.  
He took a couple timid little steps closer, his soft brown teddy in one arm and Buster in tow.  
“It’s like Christmas Eve tonight,” she whispered, “but better.”  
His eyes immediately pulsed wide.  
“You go to sleep, and in the mornin', you’ll have a baby sister or brother.” She lifted her brows and nodded quickly to try to garner excitement. She watched the cogs work in his sweet mind as he looked at her from blue-green doe eyes over a button nose littered with feather-light freckles, and plump little lips.  
“Oh…” he finally murmured. “It’s your ouchie day?”  
“Yeah,” she nodded with a bright smile, trying not to cry with the overwhelming number of varied emotions she was being flooded with in the tiny space of a moment. Immense love for Isaac, for her new baby, for her husband who was the only person who was as much a part of them as she was. Untamed, unbridled hope for all of them. Summoning courage for the moments right around the corner.  
“Yeah, but…” she licked her lips and sniffed, looking at him with resolve renewed again by her precious son, “Daddy’s gonna take real good care a' me. Daddy and Miss Addie. Okay? Don’t you worry about me. Just be excited. Real excited. And pray for Mama and baby sister or brother. Remember your prayers?”  
“Yeah,” he nodded quietly. “Otay, Imunna go start right now.” He scurried with Buster to his bedroom and knelt beside his bed, closing his eyes, folding his hands, and whispering hushed, sweet, slow supplications.  
Arthur stood beside his younger self and gazed with a soft expression in the direction Isaac had gone. **“How'd you get so lucky?”** His brows rose when he realized his younger self had said an almost identical thing at the very same time, though replacing ‘you' with ‘I'.  
He watched his younger self pull Isaac’s door closed with a calm, “When you’re finished, go to _sleep_ , Isaac.”  
He and Addie helped Eliza stand and walk slowly to the master bedroom, her quiet groans and whines of pain leaving a wake as they closed the door behind them.  
It seemed quite a while passed before her grunts and cries started to arise from beyond the door, but they did come. And Isaac’s little feet pitter-patted as he quietly emerged from his room with Buster by his side.  
He crept to the bear rug before the hearth and sat criss-cross in his pajamas facing his parents’ bedroom, listening intently as his mother groaned from the other side.  
“ _Deep breaths, Eliza sweetheart. You’re already doin’ so great_ ,” came his father’s voice.  
Left out in the sitting room with Isaac, Arthur walked over and popped his head through the closed bedroom door to see the scene by the light of the kerosene lamp: Eliza on the bed in her chemise with her knees bent, his younger self down by her feet, and Addie off to the side as quiet as a mouse as if she weren’t even there, as per her and his younger self's agreement.  
Eliza’s face was red and cinched tight in pain, her blonde hair sticking to the sides of her sweaty face as she grunted and pushed. His younger self’s sleeves were rolled up to the elbow, and he had a basin of water and bloodied cloths nearby.  
Arthur retreated from through the door and turned to look at little Isaac. **“Should you be listenin’ to this, bud? Thought your daddy told you to go to sleep.”**  
Isaac was hunched over with his cheeks resting on the heels of his hands and his elbows on his lap, with Buster lying with his chin on the floor beside him. When an unsettling yelp and outcry arose from beyond the door, Buster let out a quiet, squeaky little whine as he lifted and cocked his head, and Isaac looked up at the door.  
_“Pain, Arthur. Serious. Pain.”_  
 _“I know, darlin'.”_  
 _“Ha! That’s a funny thought, but no. No, you don’t know,”_ she shouted low with an ominous growl.  
More groaning and crying.  
_“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean that!”_ she finally let out in a high, airy tone and broken sobs.  
_“It’s all right. Don’t give it a second thought—”_  
 _“Please don’t leave me! Don’t go!”_  
 _“I’m right here with you, honey. I ain’t goin' anywhere.”_  
 _“You’re my best friend, Arthur, you’re my best friend!”_  
 _“And you’re mine, Eliza. And it breaks my heart to splinters to see you like this. But you’re gonna get through this.”_  
 _“But if I don’t…”_ she sniffed, “ _if I don’t make it—”_  
 _“Quit talkin' like that, now, you’re only gonna scare yourself,”_ he said hastily.  
“ _But if I don’t, I mean if I don’t… I just wanna know that I meant somethin’ to you,”_ she began to ramble, _“and I want you to know I love you with…with all my h-heart and soul,_ ” she broke down sobbing.  
Quiet.  
“ _Eliza. Honey. Eliza. I need you to focus._ ”  
Arthur had expected it to be Addie’s voice finally chiming in, but it was his own, in a quiet tone.  
“ _Nothin’ means more to me than you, Isaac, and this baby. But you’re tremblin’ with pain, I got things comin’ outta you in three different places. Now, I…”_ he took a breath, “ _I ain’t a doctor. But I ain’t gonna let you slip away. You’re nowhere close to that. All right? Honest. I know you’re light-headed, but I need you to keep breathin’ for me. Focus on that, all right? Here, take few sips a’ water…_ ”  
Standing outside the door, Arthur rubbed his neck and came to sit beside Isaac and Buster on the bear rug, making an antsy trio. Another couple hours came and went, with Eliza’s groaning, grunting, and yelping arising in intervals. Before long, Isaac had slumped down with Buster behind him as his pillow.  
“ _One last good push, Eliza. You’re almost there_ ,” came the words in his father’s voice.  
His mother grunted and squealed. And suddenly there was a new sound.  
A baby wailing.  
Isaac perked up.  
“ _She’s here! A girl. It’s a girl…_ ” The deep relief and joy in his father’s voice were palpable.  
Arthur hopped up to his feet with an exclamatory whoop. **“Ha! I’m a father for the second time! Father to a daughter…”** he grinned.  
“ _Oh, Arthur! She’s so beautiful. So sweet and precious. Look at her…_ ”  
As Arthur stood there looking at the bedroom door, it grew quiet and remained so for several minutes. He finally decided to poke his head through the door to have another peek.  
And he saw Eliza with his younger self sitting on the bed beside her, both quietly gazing down in sweet bliss at their newborn daughter, clean and content, wrapped in her mother’s arms.  
“Hope,” his younger self said with a soft smile.  
Eliza looked up at him with the same expression.  
“She’s got her mama’s beautiful eyes,” he whispered.  
“And her daddy’s big heart,” she said after she’d looked back down at her. But she could feel him open his mouth in protest.  
“Got it backwards again, darlin'.”  
She looked back up at him and spoke ever so softly and slowly. “Arthur, this is the second time you’ve stood by me when I needed you most. When I was the most scared, in the most pain, and…the most exposed. When there was really nothin’ to benefit you from stayin’. When most men woulda run away.” She brought her hand to rest gently on his cheek. “Don’t argue.”  
He began to smirk. “You’re ‘too tired to scold me so fiercely?’”  
It was a hearkening back to a comment of hers on the night she bore Isaac. And she smiled wide, causing him to chuckle.  
“Yes. Much too tired. And you are too, I know it.”  
“Well…still got work to do,” he sighed, beginning to sit back and straighten. “Gotta start cleanin’ up, get ready for the afterbirth, and—”  
“I’ll take care of it,” Addie said, smiling as she walked over. “You both did well. Just enjoy this, the three of you.” She reached over and rested a fingertip to Hope’s pink cheek. “You were right…Eliza dear. I don’t know how you knew. But you were right about ‘im. He’s a keeper.”  
Eliza smiled brightly and looked at Arthur, but he only slowly looked up at Addie.  
“Proved himself many times over tonight.” Addie smiled at Hope, her eyes watering. “And I know now… I can trust you’ll be just fine.”  
Still leaning through the closed bedroom door to watch the scene, Arthur squinted and looked down. **“Afterbirth?”** he muttered to himself, finally shaking his head and retreating back through the door to turn and smile at Isaac, gesturing to the door. **“Got a little sister, kid.”**  
About another hour passed, and Isaac had finally drifted off, slumped down asleep with Buster as his pillow when his father emerged from the room, sleeves still rolled to the elbows and a bloodied basin in hand.  
“Isaac?” he whispered as his son started to rustle awake. “What’re you doin’ up? You’re supposed to be in bed asleep.”  
**“Well, you could hardly expect the kid to get any shut-eye with all that racket,”** Arthur chuckled and shook his head.  
His younger self quickly took the basin to the kitchen table, walked over, and crouched before him just as Isaac was beginning to sit up and rub his eyes.  
“Is Mommy otay?” he mumbled groggily.  
“Yeah, she’s all right,” he nodded softly. “Just real tired and sore.” An easy grin began to appear on his mouth. “You got a baby sister.” He watched his son’s eyes pop up to meet his. “Wanna meet her?”  
Isaac nodded.  
With his next blink, Arthur was standing at the opposite end of the bed in the master bedroom when his younger self opened the door and popped his head in.  
“Got a visitor,” he said with a grin.  
“Oh, okay,” Eliza said, looking down to finish nursing Hope and adjust the bodice of her nightgown. “Give us just a few seconds.”  
When she looked up and nodded, he opened the door wider to reveal their little son’s golden head.  
“Isaac!” she whispered with a bright smile. “My heart fluttered just at the sight of you, honey. C’mere, sweetheart.”  
He began to take a step into the room but paused, turned, and bent to address Buster behind him. “You gotta stay here, boy,” he whispered, shaking his finger. “Otay? I’ll be back.”  
When the dog whined to follow him, he added, “No, no, gotta stay here.”  
“He can come in with you, Isaac, it’s okay,” she said. “Just gotta be quiet.”  
He turned and took timid little steps into the room as Buster entered and sat near the footboard. Arthur’s big hand came gently behind Isaac’s head as he walked up towards his mother where she lay sitting up and propped with lots of pillows behind her.  
But his steps slowed as the tiny bundle in her arms came into view by the light of the kerosene lamp. “Um, um,” he pointed, “iss really a baby?”  
“Yeah,” she whispered with a smile.  
“That’s your sister, sprout,” his father added above him.  
“Her name is Hope.”  
He came closer, and closer, his eyes fixed on the baby as his father sat on the edge of the bed down near his mother’s knees.  
“Hope Beatrice Morgan,” his father smiled, bringing one of his big fingers up to pull one of the edges of the blanket down a little to reveal more of her tiny, wrinkly face as she slept.  
As he stood there, Isaac’s eyes were glued to her, transfixed for a moment as he watched her pudgy little lips smack and yawn wide as her tiny nose scrunched a moment, watched the pale golden hair of her soft eyebrows and peach fuzz glisten in the lamplight.  
“I love her,” arose from him, so simply.  
“You do?” his mother looked up.  
He nodded.  
“You love her?” her voice quivered.  
“Yeah,” he smiled bright.  
Her face crumpled, and she sniffed and struggled to regain her composure. “You wanna give her a kiss?”  
“Gentle, buddy,” his father whispered.  
He leaned forward and planted a soft little kiss to his sister’s cheek, making sure to put a quiet smack to it before he stood straight again. “Baby Hope,” he smiled up at his parents.  
“That’s right,” his father’s grin grew wide.  
“C’mere, Isaac,” Eliza reached out a hand to him. And he leaned forward with puckered lips to kiss her. “I love you so much. And you know what? You’re already such a good big brother.”  
Isaac smiled and rested his little hands on the puffy floral quilt covering the bed and his mother’s lap. “You look like an angel, Mama,” he said quietly.  
“Oh,” she blew air from her lips as Arthur brought his hands under Isaac’s arms and lifted him onto the bed near her thighs, “I’m a mess. Still gotta bathe.”  
Arthur reached out, and she gently transferred the babe into his arms.  
“You know who I think looks like an angel?” she whispered to Isaac.  
“Who?” Isaac whispered back.  
“Your daddy,” she whispered again, knowing he could hear them.  
“Whaa?” he scrunched his nose and cocked his head.  
“Just look at him!” Her voice was beginning to rise out of a whisper as they watched him look down at Hope in his arms. “Look how big an’ strong he is, but he’s holdin’ Baby Hope so careful and gentle. That’s how he is with you an’ me too, ya know,” she turned her head to look at Isaac as he did the same and looked back at her.  
“Ohh-hh-hh!” Isaac said as he looked back at his father, his tone rising and falling. “You’re right,” he nodded slowly and emphatically with a grin.  
Arthur’s grin was finally allowed to blossom, and he leaned forward and met her soft lips for a couple slow, gentle kisses.  
Isaac immediately smiled and scrunched his nose, pulling his shoulders up tight to his ears and tucking his little fists under his neck with a brief, bubbled giggle. “I like dat. It makes my heart go big.”  
“What? You like it when Mama an’ Daddy kiss?” she chuckled.  
“Yeah.”  
Arthur wheezed a laugh. “Guess he hasn’t reached that phase when it’s revoltin’ an’ embarrassin’.”  
“Why, honey?” she asked.  
Isaac carefully climbed over her thighs and turned to sit and face them both. “‘Cause you love each other.”  
His parents’ eyes quickly popped up to each other at the same moment. And while Arthur’s gaze flitted away nervously and even back to her and away gain, she kept her eyes on him.  
“Can I sleep in here with you guys tonight?” Isaac quietly asked.  
“Oh no, honey, not tonight,” his mother answered. “We’re so tired, and we—”  
“But Baby Hope gonna be in here?” he started to whine.  
“No, Baby Hope’s not even gonna be in the bed with us,” she gently shook her head. “Can’t have a baby in the bed; we could roll over on her.” She watched his shoulders slump as he started to whimper. “Tell you what—you can sleep with us in…two nights?” She glanced at Arthur to gauge his expression. When he cocked a brow, shrugged one shoulder, and nodded to the side nonchalantly, she knew he was far too exhausted at the moment to think about it. “Two nights from now,” she nodded.  
And with another of Arthur’s blinks, he was looking at the three of them in bed two nights later, Isaac in his pajamas sprawled out content as a lark between them with his cheek on the pillow.  
Again the scene morphed and melted to about a week later, after Addie had gone home. The sound of Hope’s piercing wails was filling the night air, and his younger self walked into Isaac’s bedroom, groggily rubbing his eyes.  
“Oh, god…” he moaned. “I got poop duty tonight, Isaac,” he mumbled thoughtlessly, subconsciously aware Isaac had to be awake.  
Isaac silently watched his father stumble a step as he walked over to the crib in the corner and set the kerosene lamp on the nightstand.  
He cooed and shushed Hope as she cried, and he reached into the crib and began to change her diaper.  
“ _Ugh_ ,” he grimaced sourly. “Bad poopies tonight, babygirl. Poor thing, you must feel awful.” When Hope’s crying didn’t ease or abate, he finally uttered a quiet and resigned, “Eliza,” knowing she’d hear it all the same, even through the crying.  
And she did come into the room still in her nightgown, not a few moments later. “What’s wrong?”  
“Bad shit comin’ outta that baby, honey. _Bad_ shit,” he murmured with a wag of his head.  
“Bad, or you just don’t wanna clean it?” she said as she walked over to the crib.  
“I mean, I think it’s bad,” he wheezed. “Just my opinion, I guess. But look at her. She don’t cry this bad usually. What’d you _eat?_ ”  
“I ate what you cooked!” she said in a strained whisper.  
As his father grumbled and Hope’s wailing raged on, Isaac shut his eyes and clapped his hands over his ears. “No, no, no,” he shouted, somehow avoiding a scream.  
He opened his eyes to see his parents looking at him. “I’m juss three, but I gotta go ni-night.” He shook his head. “No more Baby Hope in my room. She gotta grow up firss.”  
His parents looked at each other and back at him, with Hope still crying behind them.  
“You’re so right, honey,” Eliza said, coming to the bedside and leaning down to kiss his forehead.  
“Damn, kid’s right,” Arthur mumbled under his breath as he rubbed the back of his neck.  
“You’re so patient and kind, thank you, Isaac,” she kissed him again. “Sweet dreams, honey.” She went and dipped her hands into the crib and brought Hope into her arms, resting her on her shoulder. “C’mere, sweet baby. Oh, Mama’s got you…”  
Arthur grasped the rails of the crib and hefted it with him as he followed her out the door. “We made her, we take her! What were we thinkin’?” he almost laughed.  
“I don’t know…” she smirked with regret as he closed the door behind them.  
With the light gone from the room, it grew darker around Arthur until it was totally black. And he watched a play of scenes before him: about a week passing, the four of them enjoying the sunshine outside—Hope with a little bonnet on her head and Isaac trying to play with Buster. But Arthur noticed the dog was lagging, his energy waning until he was more lethargic than he’d ever been.  
He watched a few more scenes as the dog secluded himself to the bear rug in the sitting room, and the family struggled in various ways to get him to eat. But he wouldn’t touch a single bite.  
Finally he was standing on the porch one evening as his younger self stood leaning forward with his forearms on the porch rail smoking a cigarette. Eliza was sitting in the long white swinging bench that hung from the roof over the end of the porch to his left, nursing Hope.  
His younger self gazed up at the multitude of glittering stars adorning the deep indigo night sky, listened to the chorus of crickets with their usual rhythmic melody just beyond the porch, and felt the fresh night air crisp his nose and cheeks.  
He lifted his cigarette back up to his lips and took another puff, addressing her without turning. “You know we’re gonna have to put ‘im down.”  
It hadn’t been a question, but he’d tried for a calm and even tone.  
A frown pulled at her mouth as she looked down at Hope and began to button her blouse. “I know.”  
“It’s a parent’s nightmare,” he hung his head. “But he’s gotta learn about death sometime. In order to…join the rest of us,” he said, only managing to add the last bit in a whisper. Looking back up, he took another deep pull from his cigarette and flicked the refuse from the tip with his third finger. “You remember when, or…what it was…first taught you things die?” he asked, releasing a puff of smoke with the last words and turning to look back at her over his shoulder.  
Eliza thought back a moment and looked up at him. “Couldn’t tell you.”  
He nodded and looked forward. “I do.” After several moments, he looked back at her again. “Was my mother.”  
Her eyes grew misty and beckoned him to come closer and sit beside her, without any words.  
And he obeyed, licking the tips of his fingers and squishing the embers of his cigarette out between them, tucking what remained of it into the pocket of his work pants as he walked over.  
“Ain’t nowhere near as bad as it could be. Just gonna tear me apart. I know it,” he sighed and shook his head as he lowered himself into the swing beside her. But he kept from sitting all the way back.  
She reached out and brought her hand down over his thigh, gently patting his knee. “It’s my fault. If I hadn’t insisted you take ‘im in—” she began to shake her head, her expression full of remorse.  
“No, no. Had to be this way. ‘Sides, I—” he stuttered, tilting his head to the side. “I think it taught me somethin’. That it’s good to be kind, just for the sake of it. Don’t have to be a big drama. But look at all the good that came of it. It meant the world to that dog, and…Isaac had a friend. He saw real compassion. Was just the right thing to do. Kid’s teachin’ _me_ things,” he smiled to himself.  
He finally sat all the way back, filling his chest with a deep breath and letting it out. “Just gonna kill me, watchin’ my family go through such pain twice in just a couple weeks.” He brought his right arm across the back of the swing and let his head roll back as he looked at her with a tired smirk. “Drains ya.”  
Her brows drew up. “Let me do it. I can do it—”  
“No.” His eyebrows came together, and he shook his head with a sardonic chuckle. “Kill the dog? No. No way.”  
“You can’t take every hardship onto yourself, Arthur. You’ve gotta let others shoulder some burdens sometimes, especially when they offer.”  
He slowly shook his head, keeping his eyes on hers. “I hear ya. I do. But it just ain’t happenin’, sweetheart. Not this. Just somethin’ I gotta do.”  
When Hope stretched and cooed, she looked down at her and wrapped her more snuggly in her blanket. And he brought his thumb to the side of Eliza’s jaw and gently stroked her smooth skin, causing her to look up.  
“You’re beautiful for offerin’, though,” he whispered.  
She rested her temple against the back of the swing, keeping her gaze on his face as he slid his hand down and gently took her chin between his thumb and index finger. “I don’t want you to hurt, Arthur.”  
As she came close and leaned into his chest, he kissed her forehead.  
“Neither of us wants Isaac to, either,” he said.  
And they sat there for just a little while, the three of them. Listening to the plaintive strokes of the crickets in the strings section, bathing in the molten silver light of the moon, resting in the easy warmth of each other. Pondering some of life’s biggest and achingly beautiful mysteries from the porch swing of their secluded, humble little ranch.  
Once more the scene shifted before Arthur to what must’ve been the next afternoon. And from his vantage point, he was looking out from under the sofa. He turned to see Isaac lying on his belly underneath the sofa with Buster to his left.  
He could hear his younger self’s strong and clear boot steps, and suddenly his black leather boots came into view as they stepped before the sofa and shifted just briefly.  
“It’s time, son,” he heard, his voice somehow both quiet and gentle, but firm and resolved. He crouched down and got on his knees to look under the sofa.  
When he saw his father’s face, Isaac silently brought his arm over Buster.  
“He’s sickly, Isaac,” he said slowly and quietly. “On the inside. He was sick when we picked ‘im up.” He nodded forlornly. “We done all we can do for ‘im. And he knows it’s his time.”  
Isaac began to whimper and moan, struggling to speak. “I juss want him to stay, Daddy. I juss want him to be otay…an’ I wanted Hopie to meet him too, an’ be friends with him too, an’… I juss love him, an’ I want him to be otay-hay-haaay,” he finally broke down into sobs with the last words.  
“I know you do,” he sighed. Still crouching, he pushed the sofa back with one hand to reveal boy and dog. And when he saw the heartbroken expression on his son’s face, he slowly looked backwards over his shoulder at Eliza where she was standing in the kitchen holding Hope in her arms.  
She read the expression requesting help in his eyes and quickly walked over and came to sit in the armchair across from where Isaac was hiding.  
“Isaac,” she whispered gently. “I’m gonna miss him too. You know…while Baby Hope was in Mama’s tummy, he would come and sit beside me, and rest his chin on my belly. He’s so soft. We’d snuggle, and he’d keep me company, and keep me warm… I’m gonna miss him too,” she sniffed and struggled to smile down to him. “He’s been such a good boy to us.”  
Arthur slowly looked back down to his son. “We’ll all miss him.”  
Isaac shut his eyes tight, buried his face in Buster's fur, and sobbed.  
His father struggled to come up with the right words to say, knowing, ‘We’ll get another dog,’ and, ‘It’ll be okay,’ and ‘Be brave now,’ were just not right.  
“Isaac…” he finally managed. “I know it hurts to know he has to go. I know…it’s hard to understand…why.” He winced, feeling he still wasn’t getting it quite right.  
He finally reached out and rested a hand to his little shoulder, and his sobbing immediately began to quieten, just a bit. “I know you love him. You been good friends to each other. You gave him a good life, for the time he had left. A great life. Think about where he was, all cold an’ hurt an’ lonely. Now he knows he’s loved. Look at ‘im.”  
Sniffing, Isaac drew back and looked down at Buster.  
“He’s clean and warm and safe. He’s happy. That’s what your love did for him. And he loves you right back.”  
Isaac nodded slowly, his frown still bent and somber. He looked up at his father with full doe eyes. “But I’ll juss miss him so much.” His face began to crumple again, and he brought his little hands up to his eyes.  
“I know you will, son,” Arthur replied, his heart fracturing at the sight. “But when he goes, he won’t feel anymore pain or sickness. No more.” He finally opened his arms, and Isaac immediately melted into his chest as he brought him in for a hug and held him close. He kissed the top of his head and whispered, “We’ll always remember him. An’ keep him in out hearts.”  
Isaac buried his face deep in his father’s chest. He finally let out a full-on wail and hiccupped to get air, over and over, his breathing fragmented and his big, broken sobs bigger than what his little chest had room for.  
Arthur brought his hand to the back of his head and closed his eyes, his heart shattering at the sounds. But just holding each other was beginning to work its miracle salve. And after a few minutes like that, Isaac’s moaning and breathing were beginning to soothe and even out, though he still hiccupped now and then.  
When Arthur finally drew back to look at him, his face was pink and puffy, his cheeks streaked with shimmering tears. Arthur brought his hand to the side of his face as their eyes met.  
“You okay?” he asked so quietly. “Be okay?”  
Though his eyelids were drooping heavily and his lashes were still wet, Isaac gave the tiniest little nods, and it sent the sensations of pride blooming and sparking like fireworks through Arthur’s chest.  
He nodded. “I’m so proud a’ you, Isaac. Got such a kind, brave heart. And Daddy’s real proud a’ you.” He finally came to carefully scoop the droopy hound dog up into his arms.  
The sight made it all the more real for Isaac, and he began to let out little moans and sobs again, though nowhere near as loud as before.  
“I l-love you, Buster,” he quickly kissed his fur several times before his father stood with him. “I l-love you, boy. You a g-good boy. I l-love you s-so much.”  
His father swallowed and stood with the dog in his arms.  
Eliza stood with Hope in her arms and placed a kiss on his soft ear. “Bye, sweet boy,” she whispered. “Thank you.”  
And Arthur finally carried him towards the front door. But as he did, he glanced back at Eliza for just a few moments. When their eyes connected, she could see the several emotions that flashed in the look in them—an intimate moment between the two of them as that small span of time seemed to slow.  
It wasn’t just that he had to end a life—to watch life seep away and be the one to usher in death. It was the fact that he was the one to do what broke their son's precious, tender heart. That he took it upon himself. He was there to take the burden from Isaac. But not only was no one there to take the burden from himself, he chose to let no one do so. And he felt it, so astringently in that moment—the deep rawness of it. What it was to be a father. And she could see so clearly the mix of both beauty and tragedy caught up in the courage of it.  
As he turned and walked through the front door with the dog for the last time, it overwhelmed her—the strength of his deep love for Isaac, of her deep love for both of them. As her face crumpled, she brought her free hand over her eyes and cried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ❤
> 
> I don't usually add writer commentary, because I think as a writer one thing you strive for is having your work speak for itself. (Refraining hasn't seemed to serve me well in the past, since the final 2 chapters of "Only Fools..." which were v important to me, seemed to not have been met with too much receptiveness and may not have been received by most readers quite in the way I'd meant them.) I also don't want to come across as a try-hard! But I can probably resign myself to that. I'd like to add just a couple notes here.
> 
> I realize Hope isn't an elegant or flowery-sounding name. It's short and simple to the ear. But while writing Ch 25 of "Only Fools..." I realized that that simple word holds a lot of meaning for this series. Eliza’s deep-seated hope for Arthur’s love in return. Her hope that he would see worth in himself and be all she knew he already had in him to be. Her undeniable hope that he'd stay and allow himself to be loved and accepted and become part of the family. Arthur’s hope that his sacrifice in being apart from them would keep them both safe and untainted by the aspects of his way of life--that they would not only survive, but grow & prosper. Isaac’s hope for his father’s love, acceptance, & pride in him. And his hope for his parents' union & a healthy home.
> 
> So while writing, it almost seemed natural that Hope became personified. Not that their daughter is the incarnation of hope--she isn't. But with all Arthur’s innate thoughtfulness, it was not lost on him the uncanniness of Eliza’s chosen name for her, and its significance. And I thought it was a lovely way to bring their struggle to hold onto hope, and all it means, to the forefront of their minds.
> 
> I also want to be sure to say that I've been very conscious and careful of avoiding down-grading the value of Eliza & Isaac to him. I've never wanted to imply that he needed another child to find value in them as people and as a family. (I believe he already did.) That is to say, I've never wanted to imply that Eliza & Isaac were lacking in any way or worth less in his eyes. I've never wanted to distract from the simple fact that he lost Eliza & Isaac to murder, and how devastating that simple fact is. At the same time, an aspect of this work out of the series of 3 works is imagining all that could've been. And my personal imagination takes me in this direction when it comes to Arthur’s pinings for a healthy, full family. I feel he'd be an absolutely outstanding pa. We know how he was with Jack. 😭💗
> 
> Also! The scene where Isaac meets Hope for the first time was partially inspired by this meltingly adorable video (even though the boy in the video is two and Isaac is three) because I am s o f t: <https://youtu.be/eSqo9MCSRsg>
> 
> On a different topic, I want to let you know that it seems 2(+) weeks is a much more realistic goal for me to upload chapters. Not that anything special is happening in my life, but I'm always so extremely exhausted. I hope this isn't too disappointing and that you guys are interested enough to stick around.
> 
> Thank you sincerely for reading, and love to all,
> 
> Rosie


	15. Chapter 15

As Arthur lied on his cot and closed his eyes, the image of the barn at Deer Head Ranch materialized before him. He walked through the closed barn doors like a mist, and when they were quietly pushed open, he realized his younger self was just inches behind him with newborn Hope slumbering on his chest. There was a soft gaze and grin on his face.  
He turned forward again to see what he was looking at: Eliza with her back to him, brushing the horse he’d caught her and cooing sweet things to him. She was in trousers and riding boots, and one of Arthur’s white everyday shirts hung loosely about her, tucked in at the waist of her breeches, sleeves folded softly to her elbows. And her long golden waves were flowing freely at her back.  
“Did you miss me, boy?” she whispered as she brushed his neck, and it lifted from her like a soft breeze on a sunny summer afternoon.  
The stallion nickered low and brought his chin and cheek over her shoulder, quickly tucking her into the space beneath his throat.  
“Oh-ho-hooo, I missed you too, sweet boy,” she brought her arms up and hugged his neck. “I was only makin’ a little human, that’s all,” she chuckled as she brought the broad brush down across the side of his belly. “Her name's Hope. Arthur let me name her after mama. Well, not ‘let’…” she mumbled. “He was very happy to. And he likes the name. _Oh_ , how I love that man, Samson,” she whimpered excitedly. “And you’ll just love Hope, trust me. But boy, I couldn’t wait to get back astride you.”  
She brought the brush up to his back and stroked him there. “I tried to tell ‘im I’d be fine, but…he wouldn’t let me. He’s very protective, you know,” she smiled as she came close and rubbed down across his nose. “Just can’t quite tell…” her expression grew pensive, “if it’s just because I’m his, and all we are is…friends makin’ babies—”  
Samson huffed and grunted, quickly shaking the back of his head and pawing the dusty barn floor.  
“I know,” she scrunched her nose, “it kinda sounds silly, huh? But…I’m still not totally sure…if he loves me. Husband and wife love. The kind where only you fit with the person. He did say we’re Celtic souls…” she gazed down as she brushed his shoulder. “And sometimes, the way he looks at me, or the way he holds me… The way he sticks around—really sticks by me, I mean really!—when things get hard… I could swear, he’s tellin’ me he loves me, without any words.”  
She shook herself out of her rosy daydream and took a breath as she looked up at him. “He’s just a bit…stopped up in the words department,” she smirked. “ _Well_. Not _all_ words,” she chuckled. “Just the kinds that matter to a woman. Particularly the woman you’re married to. Particularly the one carryin’ and birthin’ your children,” she chuckled. Her eyes popped up to Samson's face. “I mean, I ain’t complainin’. And truthfully, I’m probably too caught up in my head! He probably does love me. Whatcha think, Samson boy?”  
Samson paused and blinked a couple times as he eyed Arthur behind her, who was using his free arm to make big, broad, waving strokes up and down with wide, urgent eyes as he silently mouthed ‘ _Yes!_ ’ over and over. Samson let out a whinny and threw his head back high, bringing it down dramatically and definitively.  
She laughed and patted his neck. “That’s my optimistic boy.”  
Wincing, Arthur gingerly tiptoed back to the barn door, opened it, and shut it loudly before walking towards her.  
She turned to look back at him with smile.  
“Breakfast's ready,” he grinned. “Isaac’s bitin’ at the bit.”  
She silently slipped her arms under his and wrapped him by his midsection as she rested her cheek on his chest with a contented grin and closed her eyes.  
“Mmm…he can wait just a couple minutes more though,” he smiled as he brought his big hand to her back and rested his chin atop her head.  
They stood there for a few moments in the quiet of the barn, with nothing but the sounds of Samson and Boadicea shifting their wait in the hay of their stalls, and the cowbell on her milking cow's neck tinkling low and soft every now and then.  
Eliza felt him rub her back, and when she opened her eyes, she saw their newborn daughter sleeping peacefully with her cheek slumped against the other side of his broad chest. And she smiled.  
And the scene melted and shifted before Arthur until the master bedroom of the homestead slowly filtered into view. The windows offered no light but the moon, and the kerosene lamp sat bright on the nightstand.  
Eliza was alone in the room, preparing herself a warm bath. She turned on the phonograph atop the dresser in the corner and smiled when soft, dreamy music spilled out of the horn. Glancing at her bathing supplies, she took her bar of soap and bath brush. Biting her lip, she also quickly grabbed a bar that she only ever used for Isaac’s baths, since its main purpose was to produce pillowy white bubbles. And when Arthur blinked, she was sitting back in the tub with a deep sigh, surrounded by mountains of them.  
When his younger self walked into the room, he paused and smiled. “You look mighty comfortable.”  
She grinned at him and closed her eyes as she lazily sank lower into the sudsy water. “Been a few days. A few days too many,” she said as he sat at the vanity mirror to shave.  
He worked up a suds in his shaving cup and spread it over his face with the brush. Glancing at her reflection past his shoulder in the mirror, he watched her where she sat with her bare back to him as she lifted a handful of bubbles up to her face, blew a little clump of them into the air, and silently giggled to herself. And he smiled at the sight as he brought his straight razor up to his cheek.  
“Say, I was thinkin'…” he began with a light, nonchalant tone, “was thinkin’ I might try out a different hairstyle…or somethin'.”  
Without looking at him, a vague sound of confusion arose from her as she lifted one side of her top lip.  
“You know, bein’ as we haven’t…you know…in…several weeks,” he added quietly, letting his eyes linger on her reflection before looking back down to wipe his razor.  
This time a nondescript noise of amusement bubbled out from her nose. “You wouldn’t like me very much these days, Arthur. I’m sweaty, and I always somehow manage to get somethin’ sticky in my hair.” She brought a hand up to run her fingers through her golden hair and pulled a tangled clump forward before her eyes.  
“Well, you’re in the bath now, ain’t ya? Sides, I ain’t got qualms about sweaty or sticky.” He looked back down and shrugged a shoulder. “But anyways, I thought it was either me, or…”  
“No, it’s just…I been so tired, Arthur, is all,” she mumbled. “I mean, we’re hardly ever alone, and by the time we get alone, one or both of us is fast asleep. Even _snorin_ ',” she tacked on for teasing purposes.  
He looked up at her bare back in the reflection with a sardonic half-smirk and continued about his shaving. “Well, I thought maybe you didn’t wanna chance another kiddo, thought maybe you felt it was the wrong time,” he mumbled, making sure to sound half-distracted as he lifted his chin and brought his straight razor over his skin with a swooping stroke.  
He smirked victoriously when he heard the little splash and slosh of the water from her sitting up straight and turning to look at him.  
“No, no, that ain’t it at all!” she exclaimed softly.  
After finishing his shave and wiping the lower half of his face with the cloth, he walked over to the side of the tub, keeping his eyes down on his vest buttons as he nodded. “Well, that’s probably it then, that you’re tired,” he mumbled. “I did figure as much.”  
“Why,” she started in with a bold, indignant tone, “because your old, matronly wife is haggardly now, after two children?” she drawled slowly, lifting her leg into the air, bending at the knee and pointing her toes so her glistening, curvy calf was before his eye level. And she brought it back down under the water in one smooth, slow motion.  
And moving only his eyes, he did look up to watch her swan leg maneuver. “No, I didn’t say that at all, darlin’,” he said low, still frozen and with the subtlest of wry smirks growing on the corner of his mouth.  
She sat forward and looked up at him with a knowing smirk of her own, her freckled nose scrunched. “I can see right through you, Arthur Morgan.”  
His smirk bloomed into a full-on smile. “I was hopin’ you’d say that.”  
Still grinning, she slowly shook her head and quickly reached up, grabbing him by the lapels of his shirt. “My, how the tables have turned.”  
When Arthur blinked again, it was the next morning.  
His younger self was just getting out of bed, trying not to let the bedframe creak underneath him as he pulled to a sitting position and opened the quilt. But Eliza stirred beside him all the same.  
“ _Early riser_ ,” she practically growled under her breath.  
He turned back to see the crook of her arm hooked up over her eyes to shield out the light and a demure grin on her mouth.  
He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her mouth, surprising her for a moment. But she recovered quickly and lifted her arm, bringing her hand to the back of his head and threading her fingers through his hair, deepening the kiss before he had a chance to get away.  
And when he finally did draw back, she replaced the crook of her arm over her eyes, with an even brighter grin on her lips.  
He smirked as he got out of bed and quickly tucked the quilt up near her to minimize the rush of chilly morning air underneath the covers.  
**“This…this is just like it happened…in life, ain’t it?”** Arthur dabbed his finger at the scene. **“I remember this. This is how it went, the mornin’ on that day we went on that picnic, and had that big fight. And that night we made love to each other, and I…I felt it. The forgiveness. The patience. The love.”** His eyes popped up to her, and he made his case hastily. **“I was so scared, Eliza, I was so scared that I'd have to look my love for you right in the eyes. That I wouldn’t be able to hide it from myself anymore, or deny it. And that I’d never be able to leave again. So, I…I left you in the middle a’ the night. Left that letter.”**  
He swallowed hard, listening as his younger self dressed and fastened his belt buckle, but he kept his gaze on Eliza where she lied in bed. **“Got so much worse after that. I knew I’d hurt you. Real bad. Thought it was the only way…to make sure I stayed away from you, so you didn’t get caught up in my life. So I could keep you both safe.”** He looked down at his hands but winced as he forced himself to look back up at her sleepy form, cozy in the bed. **“An' there were times, over the years…we could hardly look at each other. Was too painful.”**  
As his younger self left the room, walked through the front door down the porch and to the barn for Bo, he was swept up so that his point of view was somewhere over his shoulder. He watched him ride out past the creek into the forest. Finally pausing at the foot of a nearby mountain, he took in the dull blue haze all around him that melted into pale pink just before meeting the horizon. The stately pines stretching on, and the mist hovering at their trunks were captivating. And the low, lazy hoots of owls from their perches nearby soothed the soul.  
He watched him look over his shoulder back in the direction of the cabin with a soft grin, and he knew this was what he’d wanted for a long time. A partner in life that he loved, who loved him. Beautiful, precious children that reflected them both. A place to call his own, where he could live a simple life of peace and rest in the unruly, breathtakingly gorgeous wilderness.  
As he watched, Arthur felt a mingling of loss, sorrow, and gratefulness—just for having known them—and a pained little smile somehow appeared on his face as he looked over at his younger self. **“This day ain’t gonna be anything like what it was in reality. Is it?”** When he saw the easy grin slowly grow on his younger self’s face, he let his own grow, and nodded. **“I think I’m perfectly all right with that.”**  
After a good several minutes taking in the stillness around him, his younger self watched the sun begin to peek over the horizon, and he made his way back down to the homestead, slowly taking Bo at a trot around the back of the ranch to survey the state of the property. He finally took her to her stall in the barn and gripped his hat to his head as he brought his leg back over her.  
When he got back inside the homestead and hung his jacket and hat on the rack, he heard singing from Isaac’s room and walked back to find Eliza swaying gently with Hope perched on her arm, Isaac and his mother singing a good morning song to her.  
When she saw him in the doorframe, Eliza smiled. “Ah, honey, could you help Isaac dress? I need to change her diaper.”  
He came and sat Isaac on the edge of the bed, kneeling before him to slip his little breeches and shirt on while Eliza lay Hope down on her back on the bed to change her.  
“I could do it myself,” Isaac mumbled as his father pulled his shirt on, and his head of blonde hair popped through the collar. “I just turned four already. I’m four now.”  
“Yep, we all know, sprout,” he smirked. “You remind us at least once every hour.”  
“Well, I already go to the outhouse all by myself.”  
“All right,” he said low as he pulled his socks onto his little feet and sat back on his calves. “Wanna put your own shoes on?”  
“Oh,” Isaac said quietly as he looked down at his little lace-up boots sitting on the floor beside his feet. “Um,” he smiled at his father and brought a finger up to his mouth, “the laces are hard for me…I think.”  
His father fought a ‘that’s-what-I-thought’ grin as he picked up a shoe. “How's ‘bout you try dressin’ yourself tomorrow?”  
“Okay,” he smiled.  
When he finished tying up Isaac’s shoes, the two of them looked over to the end of the bed just in time to see their resident nine-month-old baby on all fours on the bedspread, still naked.  
“I finished changin’ her, and she kept lookin’ over in your direction,” Eliza said to them as she smiled down at Hope, “pullin' herself to turn over onto her belly. She hears our boys’ voices and wants to see what they’re up to.”  
She rested her hand to the top of Hope’s forehead and brought it back over her short-but-trying-to-grow light goldenrod, wispy curls. “‘Hey there, fellas,’” Eliza began in a quiet little high-pitched tone, “‘I’m over here, and I’m super cute, and I love you lots, I want in on the fun.’”  
Isaac immediately went to the top of the bed and looked at her with a bright, excited smile. “Come to me, baby. Come on, baby,” he motioned with his hands.  
Continuing to push herself up off the bed, Hope lifted her head to look up at him. Her arms and legs were a bit unsure of themselves, and she swayed gently. When she finally moved, she took a couple scoots backwards, and the three of them laughed.  
“No, baby, wrong way!” Isaac giggled.  
She looked down at her hands and back up at Isaac and took a quick, wobbly few scoots forward toward him before plopping down flat on her belly.  
“Good job, Hopie, good job!” he clapped as his parents smiled. “You such a good baby!”  
“Now try…back towards your mama,” Arthur said, lifting her just a little, turning her the opposite way, and planting her back on all fours.  
As she swayed on her wobbly appendages, Isaac snorted a little laugh.  
His eyes slid over to his father at his right, and with a bright, toothy smile, he drew his chin back. “I’m gonna say somethin’ funny, Daddy. Ready?”  
“Always,” Arthur smirked.  
He scrunched both shoulders up to his cheeks. “I like her little baby bottom,” he pointed. “It’s so round and soft and squishy, like two bubbles.”  
His father smiled brightly and chuckled with him.  
“Awww, who wouldn’t love it?” his mother mumbled with duck lips as Hope took a few unstable scoots towards her, and she scooped her up under her arms onto her own forearm. She gave her bottom a light, soft smack—just enough to cause a little sound—and Isaac and Arthur laughed.  
At the sound of their laughter, Hope looked over at them with a wide smile and bright, twinkling eyes and bounced on her mother’s arm. And the sight of her trying to join in on the inside joke made them laugh even more.  
“Everybody loves your sugar sweet baby bottom,” Eliza said. “And you know what? I love your baby fingers…” she brought her hand up to her mouth and made munching sounds, “and your baby arms…”  
Each time she playfully munched her skin, Hope giggled and laughed.  
Arthur quickly came and scooped off her mother’s forearm and onto his own. “And your baby neck…and your baby belly…” He munched her there ferociously, until she was throwing her head back and cackling raucously, and they all couldn’t help but laugh right along with her.  
“You hungry?” he looked at Eliza, the effects of laughing still lingering on his face. “What you want for breakfast?”  
“Oh, whatever you two are in the mood for,” she said as he handed her Hope. “Just gonna feed her, and I’ll be right out.”  
Arthur walked out into the kitchen with Isaac following in his wake as his mother quietly closed the door behind them.  
“All right, bubba,” Arthur said as he stood before the kitchen counter and Isaac went to the table, “what’ll it be this mornin'? Oatmeal, eggs, or flapjacks?”  
He turned to see Isaac climbing up into the chair with his teddy in one arm, looking at him with a pinched, knowing smile on his face.  
“Flapjacks it is,” his father smiled in return.  
“With _extra_ honey.”  
“ _Extra_ honey, you got it,” he said as he pulled the cast iron skillet out from the lower cabinet. He whistled as he quickly threw together a batter, and when he went to work at the iron stove, he began singing and mumbling to himself. “ _Oh baby, oh baby, I’ve told you before. Do make me a pallet, I’ll lie on the floor… Rye whiskey, rye whiskey, rye whiskey, I cry! If I don’t get rye whiskey, I surely will die_.”  
“What's _that_ song, Daddy?” Isaac laughed behind him.  
“Why, you don’t like it?”  
“Sure, I just never heard _that_ one before,” he smiled, slowly shaking his head side to side.  
“No, I don’t ‘spect so,” Arthur chuckled.  
“Why’re you all, super happy today?”  
“What you mean?”  
“Well, you’re so happy you’re whistling an’ singing funny stuff while you cook. Didn’t you notice?” he giggled.  
“Ha,” he smirked and gave his head a single tip to the side while the flapjacks sizzled in the pan. “Didn’t really think about it. I guess it… Well, your mama and I got a chance to, uh…cuddle…last night. For the first time in a while.”  
“Cuddle?”  
“Yeah, we did some good cuddlin',” Arthur smiled and nodded half to himself, trying not to laugh while keeping his attention on the still-cooking flapjacks.  
“Mama’s the best at cuddling. Now I get why you’re super happy. She always makes us smile.”  
“Yeah, your mama’s a…real, real special person. Best I know.”  
“Mm-hmm,” Isaac sang. “Like a princess. Lucky you married her before some other guy did, huh?”  
He wheezed and nodded. “Yeah, I do have that thought about ten times a day.”  
“Should be a hundred.”  
Pausing, Arthur turned and looked at him with lifted eyebrows and a burgeoning, incredulous grin. “Well thank you for remindin' me. Good Prince Isaac,” he bowed his head to the side before turning back to the stove.  
“You’re welcome,” he sang quietly with a tight little grin as he made his teddy step across the table top.  
Arthur turned to look back at him with his coffee mug before his chest. “Hey, you wanna help me out on the grounds today? Got a fence needs fixin'.”  
Isaac smiled with twinkling eyes. “Yeah!”  
“After breakfast I’ll go get my tools from the work bench. Just be ready on the porch by the time I come back, all right?” he said as he brought the mug up to his lips.  
“Mkay.”  
Just then Eliza came out with Hope dressed and on her arm. Her own golden waves were dangling loose at her back. “Mm, smells good,” she said as she walked past Arthur and started pulling Hope’s cubby chair out from the table. “What'd I miss?”  
“Daddy told me you cuddled last night.”  
Arthur immediately snorted into his mug and tried not to choke as he looked over the rim and briefly saw Eliza’s wary look before glancing at Isaac’s innocent one.  
Eliza smirked as her eyes slid over to her husband. “Why yes, we sure did.”  
“He was so happy it made him sing. He was singin’ from it,” Isaac smiled at his father. “I liked it, it made me laugh,” he mumbled with a chuckle.  
As he brought his mug back down, Arthur’s eyes shot wide, his gaze trained on him, and his brows pinched. “ _Come on, kid_ ,” he fought to get out in a strained, quiet whisper. He finally brought his mug back up to his lips and glanced at Eliza, closing his eyes and giving his head short little shakes.  
With her lips pursed tight, Eliza grinned and mumbled a little trill of a chuckle as she watched her husband work to hide his brewing blush. Her tone was high when she said, “Well I’m sure glad.”  
He cleared his throat and finally set his mug down on the counter. “Who wants flapjacks?!”  
Eliza scoffed a laugh and shook her head as she started to go to the cupboard to pull down a jar of applesauce. But as she passed him, she quickly reached down and cupped his rear, giving it a good tug with one smooth motion—just long enough to get a good grip, and just briefly enough that she was finished by the time her body passed his, so Isaac wouldn’t see.  
Arthur jumped and nearly swallowed his own tongue before letting out a low, “Good god…” wiping his hand over his face, and wagging his head—all to the sound of her all-too-amused giggle.  
“I think what Isaac’s really trying to say,” she began as she poured the applesauce into two bowls, “is that it’s only right an’ healthy he should have parents who like to be round each other,” she said lightly as she passed Isaac a bowl and a spoon before sitting down beside Hope. “Ain’t that right, Isaac sweetie?”  
“Mm-hm,” he nodded as he dove into the applesauce, licking his top lip after taking a bite.  
“And you know, I think what I’d like to add,” Eliza said in mock concern, furrowing her brows as she fed Hope a little bite of applesauce, “is that…you assumed I’d be upset or embarrassed at the thought of Isaac knowin’ we cuddle and snuggle. But really, you’re the embarrassed one, Arthur dearest.” When he glanced back at her over his shoulder with a deep-set, knowing smirk, she couldn’t help but smile. She looked back at Isaac across the table. “But anyone who cuddles with his wife as good as your daddy does, should never be embarrassed—”  
“All right!” Arthur said as he finally turned with a plate piled high with flapjacks in one hand and a jar of honey in the other. “Enough, it’s enough,” he wagged his head with a wheeze. “I learned my lesson,” he looked at her with lifted brows as he sat at the table. He looked across the table at Isaac. “And it’s that there’s no shamin’ this woman. No shamin’ her,” he shook his head with a smirk.  
“Why should there be?” she asked in a high, indignant tone past the bite of applesauce she’d taken. “It’s 1892, and I’m a married woman desperately in love with my husband.” She rested her elbows on the table, looking at the spoonful of applesauce in her hand. “And we’re both just ripe for, uh…what was it, Isaac? Snugglin’?”  
“Cuddling,” he said as he reached over the table and flopped a big, round flapjack onto his plate, licking his thumb.  
His father immediately dropped his fork with a little clank, set his elbows on the table, and rested his forehead against his folded hands.  
“Cuddlin’,” she smiled brightly at her husband with twinkling eyes as she watched him sit back up. And by the time he was looking back at her, she was smiling so brightly that a vein was starting to show in her forehead, and she bit her lip.  
“Your mother takes joy in makin’ me squirm, Isaac.”  
“Oh, yes. Yes,” she nodded with the same unhindered smile.  
Hope began to mumble and whimper, and she rested her tiny hand on her mother’s arm. When she turned to her, she had her little mouth wide for more applesauce.  
“I also told ‘im he’s lucky he got to marry you, ‘stead of somebody else,” Isaac’s little voice said as he pulled the honey dipper from the jar.  
“Oh…well, that’s exactly how I feel about him, Isaac,” she said as she fed Hope another bite, then turned to smile at Arthur. “Exactly how I feel.”  
Arthur smiled back at her, then caught a glimpse of the amount of honey on the honey dipper Isaac was trying to get away with. “Too much,” he said quick and a bit louder than normal speaking volume. “Let it run off.”  
Isaac held the honey dipper over the mouth of the jar for a few more seconds as the honey slowly ran off, then made a move to pull it over his plate. But his father reached over and scraped the dipper against the inside of the jar before he had a chance.  
“Better.”  
Isaac dangled it over his flapjack and slowly dragged the stream of honey back and forth. “I wanted extra.”  
“That’s still gonna be extra, trust me,” he smirked, slowly blinking his eyes.  
When Arthur finished eating, he kissed Eliza on the cheek and took his hat as he walked through the the front door. He went out to the barn, donned his work clothes that he kept there, and grabbed his wooden box of tools by the handle, carrying it with one hand.  
When he came back towards the porch, he heard Isaac's little voice as he sang softly to himself:  
“ _Thou my best thought, by day or by night, waking or sleeping, your presence my light…_ ”  
He walked around to the front of the porch to see his son sitting on the porch swing looking down and dangling his little feet back and forth.  
When Isaac looked up and noticed his father, he smiled bright and tried to seamlessly transition into, “ _Rye_ whiskey _, rye_ whiskey _, rye_ whiskey _, I cried!_ ” singing every ‘whiskey’ with force and gumption.  
His father smirked and scoffed a laugh through his nose as he watched Isaac walk towards him and down the porch steps. “Your mama’s gonna have my hide if she hears you singin’ that,” he said low and quiet. Pausing, he looked up, then back down at him with a wry, widening grin. “Matter of fact, best just keep right on singin’ it.”  
He looked up at the open doorway and called, “Hun! I’m takin’ the kid!”  
“Which _one?_ ”  
He scrunched a brow. “One can walk, and don’t need his mama’s teat!”  
“Oh. All right,” she laughed.  
He couldn’t suppress a wheezy, airy laugh as he shook his head and looked down a moment.  
She came through the doorway with Hope on her forearm just in time to see the two of them turning to walk away together with the corral fence to their left. “You’re gonna have so much fun, Isaac. Stay close to your papa. Listen, and do exactly as he says, okay?”  
“Okay,” he called back to her.  
She smiled as she watched Isaac hurry to take two or three steps for every one of his father’s big, firm steps. And she could just hear them say,  
“You look extra tough today.”  
“Oh yeah?”  
“Yeah. You almost always got your hat on, but today you got chaps. I like ‘em.” Isaac ran ahead a bit and hunched down low a moment to get a better look at his father’s feet as he walked past. “And I really like your spurs a lot,” he pointed his little finger.  
He grinned down at him by his side. “Your mama likes ‘em too.”  
As Isaac stood back up straight and scurried to catch up with him, he asked, “Could I have some spurs, Papa?”  
“Wouldn’t be much point,” he chuckled. “You ain’t ridin’ yet.”  
“Well when can I ride?” he whined a little.  
“Soon,” his father smiled. “We’ll get you up on a horse soon. Don’t you worry.”  
With that they were out of ear shot, and Eliza’s soft smile remained as she turned to go back inside.  
“’S just up here. You ready to get to work?” Arthur asked.  
“Yup,” Isaac nodded, trying to resemble his father’s strong, easily confident gait.  
“Good. All that book learnin’…it’s great an’ all, don’t get me wrong. But you gotta get outside. In the wilderness—learn about the world by touchin’, hearin’. Breathin’ the fresh air. Your mama knows that. We've just got Hope, and she’s real young yet. Mama can’t be out here with us as much as she wants right now. But she’s right. You gotta pay attention, and I expect you to listen well when you’re out here with me. Understand?”  
Isaac nodded firmly and quickly. “Yes, Papa.”  
“Here we go, right here,” Arthur said, setting his toolbox on the ground as he crouched before the broken fence post with his right knee on the ground and the other still bent near his chest. And Isaac sat right beside him. “All right, you gonna hand me the tools I ask for?”  
Isaac nodded again. “How ‘bout if I don’t know which one you mean?” he squinted, cocking his head a little.  
“I’ll tell you what it looks like,” his father smirked with a chuckle. He began setting up the new crossbeam he’d fashioned against the existing post, making sure it was positioned properly. “All right, I need the level.”  
Isaac’s brows scrunched quizzically as he looked down into the tool box.  
“It’s got a vial, er—a tube of water, with a bubble in it.”  
He reached in, pulled out the level, and handed it to him. “Why you need that?”  
“To make sure the beam is straight—straight with the ground, I mean—like all the other beams in the fence. Look how straight they all are.”  
Isaac looked around at the rest of the fence. “Why they all need to be straight?”  
“So they link up properly. If they didn’t, they’d grow weak much faster, and fall apart.”  
Isaac watched his father’s hands and noticed the fine dust transferring from the new beam to his fingers as he held the wood piece steady. “What’s that stuff on your thumb now?” he pointed to his wide thumbnail.  
“Sawdust.”  
“Why’s it on the wood?”  
“‘Cause that’s where I cut it earlier. The saw ground the fibers of the wood a bit,” he drawled.  
“Hm.” He watched his hands move, and looked to his own hand and back to his father’s again. “Wow,” he smiled up at him and brought his pale little hand close to his. “Look how much bigger your hands are compared to mine, Papa.”  
He smiled warmly. “Yeah.”  
“They make mine look teeny tiny,” he mumbled with a melodious giggle, and his father huffed a little laugh of air through his nose. “Why’re your hands so big?”  
“Eh, I don’t know,” he mumbled and shrugged one shoulder. “Just…made that way, I guess. Had a big man for a father myself.”  
Isaac gasped with wide eyes. “Am I gonna get big hands too when I grow big?”  
“Probably,” he smirked under the brim of his hat as he returned the level to the tool box and took out a long nail. “Need the hammer.” Knowing Isaac knew that one, he watched him grip the heavy tool with both little hands, heft it over the edge of the box, and hand it to him.  
Isaac intently watched him hammer the nail all the way down into the wood, strike after strike. “Why’s it make that tinkling sound?”  
“‘Cause it’s metal on metal.” He wiped the sweat from his brow with his forearm and returned the hammer to the box, pulling out a coil of wire. He wrapped it around the post and crossbeam several times, finally holding it tight to the post and turning to Isaac. “Diagonal pliers. Gotta be real careful with it. Can you guess what that one looks like?”  
Isaac pursed his lips to the side and pulled it out of the box by the grip.  
“That’s exactly right. Good job, sprout,” he smiled.  
Isaac excitedly beamed with pride. He watched him trim the wire before returning the diagonal pliers to the box. “All right. Last one. Plain ol’ pliers.”  
Isaac retrieved the pliers and handed them to him. As he watched him bend the edge of the wire tightly in on itself over and over, a bird chirped in a tree nearby, and he asked, “Papa, why do birds have two wings instead of three?”  
“‘Cause they fly best with two.”  
“Why do horses have four legs?”  
“‘Cause they run fastest with four.”  
“Why do fish live in the lake?”  
“‘Cause somebody’s got to, so it might as well be fish.”  
“And why you love me and Hope and Mama?”  
“I just do, all right? I—” he said hastily. When he caught himself and looked up, Isaac had a wide, thin-lipped, all-too-wise grin plastered across his face. Arthur let his eyelids hover half-mast and smirked faintly, knowing he’d been expertly set up for a checkmate by a four-year-old. He sheepishly went back to twisting the wire before him.  
But after a couple minutes of quiet, he realized with regret that his son felt he needed to fish for words of affection from his father. And he looked over at him. “Hey…” he began gently and tentatively, “you know I love you and Hope, right?”  
“Yeah. I know,” Isaac nodded as he looked down and fiddled with the long blades of grass.  
“Good.” He tried to go back to finishing the fence.  
“And I know you love Mama too. But you should tell her sometimes.”  
Moving only his gaze, he looked at his son from the corner of his eyes. His brows drew up ever so slightly as the simple words fell to the soft earth between them with a thud like an anvil.  
And both Arthur and his younger self sat there gazing at him, wondering for a moment where he got such wisdom at so young an age—that peculiar, precious sort of wisdom, familiar to him for its ability to so effectively cut straight through bullshit to the point. And with so few, such simple words.  
But it was only a moment. He didn’t need longer to wonder where he’d gotten it. Because he knew it wasn’t from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sweetest Readers,
> 
> Sorry you had to wait 2 weeks for this! It's not the most exciting of chapters. I wanted to combine it with the next chapter, but that portion's nowhere near ready yet. I am a bit excited about the next one though. You'll be able to get to know Hope a little better. 😉💕
> 
> Also, 🥰 inspiration:  
> <https://www.instagram.com/p/CHSfg48FPq_/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link>


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear sweet Readers,
> 
> Though you don't have to, please consider listening to the music clip where I've placed the link for the final scene of this chapter. I feel it works best with the music, and it helps liven the scene up a bit more. 😊

Sitting on his cot and stretching, Arthur tried to ready himself for the dream he knew he’d have that night, whatever it may be. But somehow he knew, prepare as he tried, there would be no avoiding the aching that sat in the pit of his stomach from missing them.  
When he closed his eyes and drifted off, he was pulled into the sitting room of the homestead one evening. His younger self sat on the couch with Hope on his left thigh, her little mop of curls glistening like gold by the light of the nearby kerosene lamp as he read her a bedtime story. She must’ve been somewhere between one-and-a-half and two, and her little doe eyes gazed up at her father’s face as he read, far more than down at the page of the book.  
Isaac walked over and held up a book of his own. “Tonight was my turn to pick a story. I wanted _Tom Sawyer_.”  
“ _Wapunzel_ ,” Hope said.  
“It’s Hope’s turn tonight,” his father said. “Come on and sit up here with us.”  
“But I thought she had her turn to pick last night!” he slumped his shoulders. “It’s supposed to be my turn tonight.”  
His father looked up at the ceiling as he tried to think back to the night before through the blur of story-telling each night.  
“ _Wapunzel_.”  
His father briefly shook his head. “Eh, just…it’s Hope’s turn tonight. You’ll have your turn tomorrow night. Come on,” he patted his right thigh.  
Hope tapped the open page with her little finger. “Dis. Dis one.”  
Arthur continued to read the story soft and slow, and Hope rested her temple on his chest with a little huff of a sigh. He brushed his large fingers over her curly hair and kissed her forehead as he continued to read, going into special voices for each separate character.  
Watching the pair from the kitchen, Eliza smiled in adoration and bit her lip at the sweet, darling sight of her husband doting on their little daughter. She finally came over and planted a kiss on Arthur’s cheek, and he glanced up at her with a smile.  
And Isaac stood there, silently observing all of it. He finally plopped down in the armchair across from the sofa, instead of in his father’s lap.  
**“Well, don’t let yourself feel like an outsider, kid. Was an honest mistake,”** Arthur said, leaning against the chair and looking down at the top of his son’s blonde head. **“Talk to ‘em. Tell ‘em how you’re feelin’. They got a lot on their plates right now. They don’t mean to let you feel ignored.”**  
But with his next blink, the scene changed to the next afternoon, when the family was readying for supper.  
“Isaac, could you put the cups on the table for me, please?” Eliza asked him.  
But he was staring down the other end of the table watching his father kiss and tickle Hope, who sat perched on his forearm, as she smiled and giggled. She was almost like an extension of his arm these days; he seemed to so often be carrying her. Even now, between tickling her he was expertly going about his business putting silverware on the table, holding Hope with one arm as she munched and smacked on a couple pieces of oat bran cereal while he was distracted.  
When his father glanced his way, he said simply, “Isaac, your mother asked you to help her set the table.” And he immediately went back to grinning and kissing little Hope.  
“What about under here?” he grinned, pointing to the crook of her underarm. Anythin’ under here?”  
“No,” she grinned tight, scrunching up her shoulders.  
“Nothin’?”  
“No,” she quickly shook her head.  
“You sure?”  
“No.”  
He laughed. “What’s under here, babygirl? Let’s see. What’s under here?” He worked his fingers into her underarm, and she lost it, tipping her head to the side with a giggle. But it opened a wide space to her neck, and he took advantage of it, quickly bringing his fingers up and tickling her there, causing her to cackle.  
Without taking his eyes off the pair, Isaac took the tin cup his mother placed in his hand. He gripped it tighter and tighter, finally tossing it down on the floor with a loud clatter.  
“Papa, you love Hopie better ‘an me!” he shouted fiercely, his pink face contorted with pain and anger.  
His father and Hope both looked at him with stock still, wide eyes. They turned and glanced at each other just a moment, then back at him.  
“Isaac, _no!_ ” his mother said with a deeply concerned expression, her voice quivering just a bit as she set the plate she’d had in her hands down on the table.  
But Isaac kept his filling eyes trained on the ground and stomped away out the front door. Too shocked and dazed, his parents just watched as he walked past them, until he was gone.  
When Arthur turned, his and Eliza’s eyes connected.  
“You’ve gotta go talk to him, reassure him,” she said.  
“I know.”  
“Peepee,” came a quiet, simple alert in Hope’s little voice.  
“Oh, perfect timin’,” Arthur said lightly as he began to shift her weight on his arm and pass her to her mother.  
Eliza smirked a bit sardonically at him as she brought her into her arms. And as Arthur walked out the front door, she took Hope to the chamber pot in the children’s bedroom.  
Pulling down Hope’s bloomers, she picked her up a bit and sat her on the flat, smooth wooden seat Arthur had carved for her that rested over the tin pail.  
As she held her there, Hope swung her little feet and hummed a bit. When they heard the tinkling sound of her urine hitting the tin pail, she looked up at her mother and gasped with a smile. “Yaaay!” she clapped.  
Eliza gasped with her. “Good job, sweet girl! You’re doin’ so good.”  
Meanwhile Arthur was out front looking around until he spotted Isaac afar off sitting with his back against the barn wall, moping. He immediately walked the long distance over to him and leaned against the barn, sliding down to sit beside him.  
“What’re you doin’ out here, bud? I’ve taught you better ‘an to come out here all by yourself.”  
“You do it.”  
“I do it when there’s work to be done on the grounds. You’re five years old, Isaac!” he said lightly.  
Isaac looked away and rested his chin over his little folded arms that sat above his bent knees.  
Arthur sighed, knowing he hadn’t started out well. “It’s _because_ …I love you so much…I don’t want you to get hurt. Your papa knows a bit more about the world than you do. Not only do we got nature to worry about, but there’s people. It’s a big world, with lots of people in it. Lots of different people, with different…intentions.” He glanced at him. “‘Intentions’ means, what you got in your heart, what you wanna do to others. It ain’t all nice. I wish it was, but it ain’t. Your mama and I, we’ve raised you, here on our hidden little ranch…to think the best in others. And that’s good,” he nodded and let out another long sigh, “but I just don’t want you to get hurt.”  
When Isaac didn’t respond or move, he continued, “Can’t storm out on the people you love, Isaac. I never taught you that. You gotta stick around, talk to each other, work things out. Even when it gets hard, even when it hurts. I know this is all…real big stuff for a kid your age to think about,” he mumbled. “Would you like me to storm away on you like you did?”  
“No,” he sniffed.  
“No,” he nodded. He swallowed hard and closed his eyes a moment, then turned to look at him. “What you said is wrong, you know. Couldn’t be more wrong.” He watched Isaac swallow and begin to turn forward. “I love _both_ you and Hope so much. So, so much. And I don’t love one of you more than the other.” As his son turned to look at him, he repeated and shook his head, “I don’t, Isaac.”  
Isaac finally looked up into his eyes.  
“Now…it may look a little different sometimes, because it is a little different. You’re different people, different ages. She’s my babygirl, and you’re my firstborn son. But you know how special that is?” he squinted with a smile. “You bein’ my firstborn son?”  
Isaac shook his head a little, keeping his eyes on his.  
Arthur’s smile threatened to grow wide, but he kept it to a smirk as he grew pensive and looked forward. “Holdin’ you in my arms for the first time…” He gave his head a brief little tilt to the side. “There was nothin’ like it. You taught me that…not only was it okay, but right an’ healthy…the love I was feelin’ for my family. For your mama, and for you, though I hadn’t even met you yet. Taught me so many things about myself, about sacrifice, what I’d do for my family. Taught me the bonds of love are…stronger than fear, stronger than anything the world can throw at us.” He looked over at him again. “Taught me it was okay to love.”  
Isaac’s eyes began to fill with a thick rim of tears.  
“I love you more than you could ever imagine, Isaac. You know that? And nothin’ll ever change that or make it go away. Nothin’.”  
Isaac’s tears finally overflowed down his cheeks, and he lifted his arms to bring them around his neck. “I love you too, Papa.”  
His father brought one hand to his back and one to the back of his head, with the sound of the soft, dusty dirt shifting beneath them. He closed his eyes, grateful for the unspeakable gift of his son’s love.  
As Isaac finally pulled away, he sniffed and wiped his nose with the back of his hand.  
“Now Hope’s a silly little bear, and you know that,” his father said wryly, glad when Isaac chuckled. “And we got our hands full with the two of ya. We’re gonna need your help with her now an’ then.”  
“What you mean?”  
“Well, you’re her big brother. She’s gonna look up to you. As she grows, she’s gotta know she can come to you as a friend. She won’t know any better ‘til we teach her, ya know?” he grinned. “Two kids is new to us too. We don’t know what we’re doin’ _all_ of the time,” he chuckled.  
“Really?” his eyes popped up to him.  
“Oh, was it a secret?” his father’s eyes pulsed wide a moment, and he ducked his head sarcastically. “Jesus, guess I shouldn’a let it slip.”  
A bubbling laugh rumbled up through Isaac’s little nose.  
Arthur nudged him in the arm. “No! ‘Course we don’t have it all figured out. We’re workin’ through life too. We were five years old just like you once, you know.”  
Isaac looked down, his gaze soft and full of wonderment. “Oh… I guess I never thought about that before.”  
He grinned, watching him from the corner of his eyes. “We still feel like that sometimes.”  
Isaac blinked and looked back up at him. “I’m sorry I got so mad, Papa.”  
He clucked his tongue and brought his arm over his shoulder. “Isaac… You know when you were in your mama’s tummy, she prayed you’d be given a big, tender heart. Guess somebody musta heard her. Least that’s what she’d say if you ask her. ‘Cause it’s right there, right in there.” He reached over and tapped his little chest. “It’s all forgiven, bud.” He looked forward and looked back down at him beside him. “Forgive me for not realizin’ I needed to make sure you know I love ya?”  
Isaac nodded with a grin.  
“Good,” he reached up and tussled his hair. “It’s all gonna be different from now on. I’m gonna make sure you don’t feel left out. Startin’ with story time tonight.” He tilted his head towards him. “But you know Hope’s gonna be upset.”  
“Yeah…”  
“Guess she thought she found a little workaround,” he smirked.  
“But I’m not mad at her. I want her to feel loved and included too.”  
“I’m sure you’ll figure out a way.”  
With that, Arthur’s next blink swept him up until he was standing in the master bedroom while Eliza was giving Hope a bath after supper that same night. Eliza had filled the tub only a little, and Hope was still nearly swallowed by the mountains of bubbles around her.  
She picked up a little clump of them and put it atop her head, looking up at her mother, smiling wide, and scrunching her freckled button nose.  
“You’re so silly, sweet girl,” her mother smiled. “You like the bubbles?”  
“Yeah,” she smiled, looking down and squishing them in her hands.  
“You like to make people smile an’ laugh, huh?”  
“Yeah.”  
Eliza watched her beautiful wet eyelashes splayed over her plump little cheeks.  
“Iss Bubbie otay?” Hope asked, still focused on the suds.  
“Mm-hm, your brother’s okay. Daddy went and talked to him before supper, remember?”  
“Yeah. I _la_ Bubbie.”  
“Oh… I know you do,” she said as she got a suds going in her soft hair. “Why don’t you tell him when you get out of the bath? I bet he’d be so happy to hear that.”  
“Otay.”  
She finished washing her, picked her up out of the bathtub, and wrapped her head to toe in a big clean towel.  
“Keen baby!” Hope sang.  
“Yup, that’s right! You’re my clean baby!” Eliza smiled, rubbing her head with the towel. “Wanna go tell daddy?” When she nodded, Eliza carried her out into the sitting room. “Guess who’s a clean baby?”  
Arthur and Isaac looked up from their place on the sofa to see Hope wrapped up in the big towel on her mother’s arm.  
“Hey! There she is. Been waitin’ for you, babygirl,” Arthur said.  
Eliza began to walk around the sofa, but she didn’t make it all the way when Hope gasped. A little look of concern alighted on her face when she saw Isaac on her father’s lap, the two of them looking down at Isaac’s book. She quickly wiggled to get down, slipping from the towel and through her mother’s hands.  
“Nooo!” she gasped and ran around the sofa to them, naked as a jay bird, her tiny bare feet clapping against the wooden floorboards. “Oh no! Iss my tuwn!”  
“Hope!” Isaac tried not to laugh as he quickly covered both eyes with his hands.  
“Iss my tuwn, Daddy! Iss my tuwn!” she said lightly and airily, resting her little palms on the sofa.  
“No,” Arthur said firmly over her voice, shaking his head. “Hope, you know your turn was last night. It’s Isaac’s turn tonight. And we’re gonna write it down on the calendar every single night so we don’t forget.”  
“Nah, noo!” she began to whimper and whine, pouting her little bottom lip.  
Isaac slowly drew a hand away from his eye and realized he could only see her belly and up when she stood so close to the sofa. He grinned empathetically at the sight of her mopey expression. “Hopie, go get your jammies on and come sit on Papa’s lap with me so we can listen together. Then you can have your turn to pick a story tomorrow.”  
She sniffed and blinked, thinking for just a moment. “Otay,” she finally smiled, quickly running back towards her mother. “I keen baby!”  
Isaac chuffed a laugh and pointed as he said low to his father, “Look at her little bottom.”  
A snorting laugh bubbled through his father’s nose. But after a moment, he looked over at him with a grin. “Proud of you, kid.”  
When Hope climbed up onto Arthur’s thigh in her sleeper pajamas and rested her temple on his chest, Eliza smiled.  
“Tell Isaac what you told me in the bath, Hope,” she said.  
Hope looked up at him across her father’s chest and reached out a little hand for him. “I la you, Bubbie.”  
Isaac smiled. “I love you too, Hopie.”  
Arthur looked up and connected eyes with Eliza, allowing his grin to blossom into a wide smile, and hers grew in time with his.  
“All right, _Tom Sawyer_ , huh? What chapter we readin’?” His grin remained as he looked down.  
“I like the part where he gets the other kids to paint the fence for him. It’s so funny,” Isaac mumbled a little chuckle.  
“Where’s that at?”  
“Over here I think. I marked the corner with a pencil,” he said as he turned the pages.  
Once again the scene shifted, and the four of them were outside walking towards the big oak tree, where a pine-and-rope swing hung that Arthur had fashioned for the children. Hope must’ve been two years old now. And Eliza carried a thatched basket filled with goodies and a blanket for a picnic once they arrived under the tree.  
Arthur watched as his younger self and Eliza walked arm-in-arm while the children playfully ran ahead. At five, Isaac was easily faster than his younger sister; and Hope’s head of goldenrod curls bobbed as she took little leaps, struggling to keep up.  
As she went, she would carelessly rub the back of her wrist over the top of her forehead to swipe her curls out of her eyes.  
“Hair’s gettin’ longer,” Arthur mumbled to Eliza at his side with a smirk. “She needs a pin or somethin’, to keep it back.”  
“Mm-hm…” she grinned, watching her.  
“Oh— she took a little tumble,” he said quietly when Hope tripped and fell in the dirt. “Watch. Let’s see if she’s all right, or comes cryin’.”  
Hope pulled herself up to her feet and didn’t even bother to dust her little knees, going right back to running after Isaac without another thought.  
“‘At’s my girl,” Arthur grinned, and they both smiled.  
But no sooner had he said it then she tripped again, falling harder than before. And this time a little whine arose from her, growing louder until she was crying.  
Isaac immediately stopped and looked back at her. “You okay, Hopie?”  
But she had already picked herself up and was running back with a little wail and her arms out: “ _Daddyyy!_ ”  
Both her parents couldn’t help but chuckle a little.  
“Oh-ho-hoo, what happened, babygirl?” Arthur mumbled empathetically, crouching and opening his arms wide for her as she ran into them, and he pulled her up into his arms with a hug. “Let’s see. You scrape your knee?”  
She sniffed and nodded with a pouted little lip, tears streaming through the dusty dirt on her face.  
Eliza reached up and wiped her cheeks clean as Isaac walked back to them.  
“She okay?”  
“Yeah, she’s all right,” his mother answered. “Aren’t ya, sweet girl?”  
With her lip still pouted and her chin tucked, she snuffled and shook her head.  
“Aww, yes you are,” Arthur said, bouncing her on his arm. “Just a little scrape, you’re okay.”  
“Don’t make Daddy blow on your elbow,” Eliza eyed her wryly with a burgeoning smirk. “You know you can’t keep a boo-boo lip when Daddy blows on your elbow.”  
Hope shook her head, determined to hold on to her sniffing tears and pouty lip just a moment longer, and her curls spun from the shake.  
“Daddy’s gonna do it…” Arthur grinned, lifting her soft little arm. He was testing her, waiting to see if she’d break before he ever needed to try.  
She scrunched her brows adamantly, trying for a sour disposition in order to cling to her pouty lip. But her frown was growing wobbly all the while.  
“Daddy’s gonna blow on your elbow…” he said, turning her arm until he could see her tiny dimpled joint. He glanced at her expression to see she was already struggling keep her upset veneer. And when he puckered up and blew, it took just a couple seconds and she immediately lost it, bursting into a blooming smile and cackles.  
“You too good at dat, Daddy!” she laughed.  
“Well, I gotta be good at somethin’,” he grinned. “Might as well be gettin’ my babygirl to smile.” He set her back down on her feet. “Go on an’ play with your brother. He’s waitin’ to help you climb the tree.”  
“Nah, I like da swing bettew!” she said as she ran towards him.  
“Okay, climb up the tree with me a little, and then I’ll push you on the swing. Okay?” Isaac said as they finally reached the tree.  
“Otay!”  
Arthur grinned at the sound. It never took much at all for them to work things out between each other these days. He was hoping it would last a good long time, at least to the adolescent years.  
As he glanced up, he was glad to see Isaac so attentive to her, holding her and making sure she was always safe, with a good footing in the low crevice of the tree trunk.  
“Right here, Hopie. You step right here, and I got you,” he could hear him say.  
And in return, Hope’s eyes were always filled with admiration and adoration when she looked at her brother.  
“Wooow. You so good, Bubbie. How you know where I gotta put my feet?” she asked.  
“‘Cause I’ve climbed to this point a lot. Mama an’ Papa say not to go higher ‘til I get older.”  
When Eliza spread out the blanket, Arthur sat cross-cross and got out their journal and pencil.  
“Would you two mind holdin’ still for me a moment?” he called to Isaac and Hope.  
Isaac gasped. “He’s gonna drawl us in their journal! Hold still, Hope!”  
Hope gasped along with Isaac and promptly held up both her little arms in a strongman’s pose.  
Isaac snickered. “Why’re you doin’ that, Hope?”  
“Juss come on!” she whispered. “We on top a’ da tree!”  
“Not really, but okay,” he laughed with a shrug and joined her in her silly pose.  
Arthur scoffed a laugh. “Look at that ham,” he smirked as he drew Eliza’s attention to Hope, and she smiled when she noticed their daughter’s big grin and flamboyant pose. “Well get in there, darlin’,” he gestured for Eliza to join them in his frame of view.  
“Who, me?” she brought a finger to her own chest. When he nodded, she added with a chuckle, “All right.” She walked around the tree trunk and stood behind the pair, lifting her arms in the same pose and struggling not to giggle.  
Arthur smirked under the brim of his hat at the sound of her laugh as he readied the journal and pencil.  
She suddenly bent at the waist and burst into laughter, and the children looked back at her with giggles and smiles. She finally regained her composure with a breathy, “Okay, okay,” and stood straight to strike the pose again.  
Arthur began to sketch the three of them in the tree trunk, looking up and back down again, feeling it very necessary to pick up speed when he heard little giggles and snickers.  
And by the time Eliza had the food spread out on the blanket, he’d compiled that drawing; a sketch of Hope leaning back in the swing with her little feet forward, a joyous smile, her curls in the wind and all about her face; Isaac smiling bright as he pushed her and laughed; and Eliza’s expression of adoration as she watched them.   
He was just beginning another sketch of Eliza when he heard,  
“We’ve only got ‘em this young for so long. Put that book down, and look at our faces.”  
He looked up to see her big, green, wry eyes gazing back at him.  
Arthur looked over his younger self’s shoulder to see all the sketches before he closed the book with a plop. **“Oh, he has been, Eliza. He has been,”** he grinned.  
He caught a glimpse of their smiles to each other as he put the journal away and she passed him a plate, but with his next blink he was standing back in the kitchen one evening a few nights later while the family was readying for bed.  
“Mama? I ca have a spoon a’ honey, peas?” he heard Hope ask.  
He walked over to the children’s open bedroom door to see Eliza hunched over the bed, tucking clean sheets onto the mattress with Hope standing in her sleeper pajamas beside her.  
“No, Hope baby,” she said with a breath. “It’s much too late for sweet things. Anyways, tonight’s your first night sleepin’ in the big kid bed with Isaac ‘stead of in your crib in the corner, and we gotta get ready.”  
Hope half-frowned and walked through the door to her father where he sat at the kitchen table working on a game of checkers with Isaac, who sat across from him in his pajamas.  
Lifting himself up on his forearm, Isaac reached over to the far end of the board and moved one of his pieces. “King me,” he smiled.  
“Agh,” his father grumbled.  
“Daddy?” Hope began sweetly. “I ca—”  
“Hm, what’s ‘at?” he mumbled, stroking the side of his chin with his thumb as he focused on the board.  
“I ca have spoon a’ honey, peas?”  
“Eh…it’s much too late, babygirl,” he shook his head. “You can have a bit of buttermilk, if you want some milk. But no honey.”  
Scrunching her button nose a moment, she sighed and slumped her shoulders. Before she turned to go back to the bedroom, she eyed the top of the tall countertop, where the jar of golden honey sat glistening against the back wall.  
Her father reached over and moved one of his pieces with a smile. “King me,” he pointed, and Isaac flopped back in his chair a little with a groan and a smirk, causing his father to chuckle.  
After a bedtime story, goodnight kisses, and tucking the pair into their bed, Arthur and Eliza stood in the doorway and pulled the door closed, though they left it open a more than a crack.  
“Since this is your first night in the big kid bed, Hope, we’re gonna leave the door open, so we can hear you. In case you need us. Okay?” Arthur said.  
“Otay,” Hope said from her spot beside Isaac.  
The two of them retreated to their bedroom and left their own door open before turning out the lamp and getting in bed themselves.  
Hope waited patiently. And after several minutes of quiet, she sat up, climbed down from the bed, and walked through both open doorways into her parents’ bedroom.  
What tipped her father off was the sound of her little tiny bare feet patting across the hardwood floor. He nearly lifted his head to look at her, but when he took note that she hadn’t called for either of them, he realized that in this instance, to her mind, she wasn’t supposed to be there. She was sneaking. And as he lied there still, he could hear her quiet breathing, which, being barely two years old, she hadn’t had time to perfect for the art of sneaking.  
He kept his eyes almost completely closed as he felt her carefully climb onto his side of the bed. And for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what she was doing, why she was there. It was when she came over top of him, brought her face extremely close to his, and hovered there for a few seconds that he realized—she was peering at him, checking his eyes to make sure they were closed—and it took everything within him not to burst into laughter and give himself away right then and there.  
But he did remain quiet and still as she slowly climbed back down and pitter-patted back out of the room. At which point he lost it, quietly bursting into a rolling snicker, just loud enough to wake Eliza as he turned onto his side to face her.  
“What is it?” she mumbled groggily.  
“You won’t believe what just happened,” he wheezed in a whisper. “It’s Hope. She came in here and got this close to me,” he held his palm flat up to his face, almost touching his nose. “She was checkin’ my eyes to make sure I was asleep!”  
“What?” she whispered, her mouth breaking into a smile as he started to sit up. “Well, what’s she doin’?”  
“I don’t know, but I intend to find out,” he wheezed again, kicking off the covers, getting up, and creeping quietly towards the doorway as Eliza followed.  
Still in their nightclothes, they peeked around the threshold to find Hope in the middle of climbing from a chair to the countertop in the kitchen, eagerly reaching for the jar of honey. And they struggled not to burst into outright laughter at the sight.  
“Little sneak,” Arthur grinned, and Eliza covered her mouth.  
They watched as she squatted on the countertop, unclamped the lid, and opened the jar.  
“Downright brilliant, is what she is,” he whispered. “Clever little mastermind. Got that outlaw gene.”  
Eliza quietly swatted him and struggled to hold back her wheezes and giggles.  
“Shh-shh,” he grinned at her, nodding in Hope’s direction. “She’s enjoyin’ her spoils.”  
They watched Hope dip all four of her little fingers into the jar, bring back her honey-covered hand, and wipe it over her tongue.  
Eliza began to hold down snorts, and even Arthur started to lose control—the whole of the scene was just too absurd and hilariously adorable.  
“Ohh, Arthur…” she finally whispered with a little tisk of her tongue when she caught her breath. “We have to stop her, look—she’s gettin’ it in her hair.”  
“Yeah,” he smiled. “Go wake Isaac.”  
Still in shadow, Eliza quietly crept to the children’s bedroom while Arthur produced the kerosene lamp, walked into the kitchen, and turned it on—much to Hope’s shock.  
“Daddy!” she gasped.  
“What’re you doin’ up, Hope?”  
“Um, um…” still squatting, she moved in front of the jar of honey. “I nee go peepee.”  
“On the counter?” he asked with a high lilt to his voice and a crimp to his brows.  
“Nooo, dass yucky,” she scrunched her nose.  
“Then what’re you doin’ up there, babygirl?”  
“Um, um, I not eateen honey,” she shook her head.  
“You ain’t?” he cocked his head. “You sure?” And when she shook her head again, “Well what’s that stuff on your hand?”  
She looked down. “Ohh…uhh…”  
“I think you’re eatin’ honey, silly girl,” he smiled and nodded slowly. “And I think you’re gonna share.”  
Her face relaxed into a smile. “Yeah.”  
“Yeah,” he wheezed a laugh when she brought the jar out from behind her. “Best thing for honey is spoons, ya know,” he went into the drawer and brought out a few. And in a moment’s time, they were both digging and into the jar with clinks and clanks.  
Isaac walked into the room with his mother behind him and smiled brightly when he saw Hope sitting with her feet dangling on the countertop. “Hopie…” he said as he rubbed his eyes. “You’re not supposed to be up there!”  
“Yeah, but I got da honeeyy!” she sang, still completely focused on her spoon.  
Her father snorted a laugh through his nose where he stood leaning back against the counter beside her, a spoon in his own hand. “And who taught her to climb?” he looked flatly at Isaac.  
Isaac’s eyes went wide, and he pursed his lips. “Oops…”  
“You know the best way to eat honey, don’t you?” Eliza came around Isaac and walked over, pulling a towel-covered plate from the back of the counter. “Biscuits,” she said as she uncovered it, which was met with immediate _oohs_.  
“Mama makes the best biscuits,” Isaac licked the corner of his lips in anticipation.  
“And…if we’re lucky…we’ve still got some butter left over from today,” she mumbled, looking over the counter for her covered butter dish and finally locating it. “Yup!”  
“What about cinnamon?” Isaac said as his father slid his hands under his arms and lifted him to sit atop the counter beside Hope.  
“Ooh, good idea,” his mother said, reaching up into the cupboard for a shaker.  
She slathered them a few buttered biscuits, their father drizzled on the honey, and Isaac sprinkled the cinnamon. And they feasted in the middle of the night, mumbles of satisfaction and smacking lips heard from every direction.  
“Y’know,” Arthur mumbled past his bite, “this is one a’ them things that I’m gonna bring up when you’re both much older. And your mother and I are gonna get even more of a kick out of it then.”  
A grin flickered across Eliza’s mouth as she tried to take a bite of her biscuit.  
“‘Cause we’re eatin’ sweets when we’re not supposed to?” Isaac asked, smiling as he looked back and forth between his parents.  
“All of it. Everything about it,” Arthur grinned, an airy laugh coming through his nose as he watched Eliza begin to giggle again. “Parentin’? What’s that? Never heard of it.”  
Eliza shut her eyes tight and shook her head, on the verge of losing it.  
He gave his head a brief tip to the side and let out a wheezing laugh. “We gave it our best shot, hun.”  
And a snickering snort finally burst through her nose. “Arthur…” she mumbled, her giggling bouts subsiding as her breathing began to calm again. “You just gotta know that as a family, sometimes it’s okay to take it easy and have a little fun. Huh, babies?”  
“Yeah. Sometimes is good,” Isaac nodded, taking a bite of his biscuit.  
“Yeah. Sometimes is good,” Hope repeated, licking the top of hers.  
Arthur smiled, his gaze flashing to Eliza. “Well then, I guess we’re all in agreement.” As he looked down at his own biscuit, his smile brightened further when another little mumbled giggle arose from Eliza.  
When the scene shifted again, it was a night several months later, when they had a Christmas tree in the corner of the sitting room, decked out with hanging felt shapes, strings of popping corn, and a red tin star.  
“Daddy, Daddy! Time for a story! Come on!” Hope was calling, taking him by the hand and pulling him towards the bedroom.  
“Yeah, come on, Papa!” Isaac said.  
After a full day of work about the property, he was quite obviously dog tired, and he lagged and grunted as they tugged on him. When he finally reached their bed, he plopped down on his back, his muddy boots hanging off the end as they climbed in on either side of him.  
“All right, what book is it tonight?” he mumbled.  
“No, you’re supposed to tell us stories from your adventures! ‘Member?” Isaac said.  
“Yeah, from your adventures,” Hope parroted.  
“I like the buried treasure,” Isaac added.  
“Oh…” he groaned. “Can it be a book tonight? I can hardly think straight, and I bet seein’ straight’ll come much easier.”  
“Nah, no… Tell us stories.”  
“Tell us stories,” they whimpered.  
He shifted in the bed and rubbed one eye. “Well, why don’t you tell me a story for once, huh?”  
They stopped and looked at each other across him.  
“Okay, what should it be about?” Hope said.  
Isaac gasped. “About ice cream.”  
“And-and—a polar bear who eats it!” Hope giggled.  
“A polar bear?” Isaac scrunched his nose and cocked his head.  
Meanwhile Arthur’s eyelids were quickly growing heavy.  
“Why’d a polar bear wanna eat it? He’s already in the cold, silly! Too cold for him!”  
“That’s why it’s funny,” Hope laughed again.  
And suddenly they heard the low, soft rumbling of quiet snoring.  
“Look! He’s sleepeen,” Hope gasped, lifting a hand to his chest.  
It was that whispered comment that Eliza first overheard, and popped her head around the corner to see them gazing down at an exhausted Arthur slumbering away in the middle of their bed. And she couldn’t keep back her bright smile at the sight.  
“No, don’t wake ‘im!” Isaac said in a strained whisper. “Poor Papa, he’s so tired.”  
“Aw, look at him… He’s dreameen,” Hope whispered. “Don’t you juss love him? He’s such a good daddy…”  
“’Course. And ya know, he works really hard for us, all the time. To make sure we’re all okay an’ happy.”  
“Yeah… But he’s what makes me happy. Him an’ Mama.”  
“Yeah, me too. I wanna be just like him when I grow big. Strong and tough and good. Extra good.”  
Eliza’s eyes began to water, and her smile grew beneath them.  
“Mama too,” Hope said. “She’s like an angel.”  
“Yeah, Mama too.”  
She quietly came into the room and began removing Arthur’s boots one at at time, slowly and gently, so as not to wake him. “Why don’t you two come and sleep in our bed with me tonight, let your papa sleep?” she whispered.  
“Why can’t we just sleep in the bed with him?” Isaac asked.  
“Well, he’s just…so big,” she chuckled. “There ain’t enough room for all of ya in this bed. ‘Sides, your father, he sometimes…turns a bit in his sleep.”  
She hadn’t gotten all the words out of her mouth, when he turned with a louder snore onto his side, causing both children to jump a bit and look back at him.  
“‘Liza…” he mumbled hoarsely in his sleep, reaching until his arm fell through the air to the mattress and gently rubbing his cheek back and forth against the pillow. “‘Liza… I might be your bear rug, but you’re my pillow. Er should I say ‘pillows’.” He smiled and almost chuckled. “Well, that’s what you get for bein’ so silky soft.”  
Isaac and Hope covered their mouths and tried to keep their giggles quiet.  
Consternation knitted Arthur’s brows a moment. “Come on, get yer arms…round me… You’re s’posed to hold me back, baby,” he almost whined, his plaintive timbre rising high with the last few words.  
Eliza smiled bright and bit her lip. “And he only ever talks in his sleep when he’s extra, extra tired,” she whispered to them. “Come on,” she tipped her head towards the doorway.  
And as they climbed down and went to their parents’ room, she lifted the blanket and brought it up over his shoulders. Placing a soft kiss to his cheek, she turned out the kerosene lamp. “You’ll have your pillows back, and an arm around you tomorrow night. Rest well, Love,” she whispered as she straightened.  
“Love…” he mumbled in his sleep.  
Freezing stiff and still, she held her breath and looked back at him.  
“Love…I…love…”  
Her brows drew tight as she took in the shape of his face in the dim moonlight. But he eventually carelessly smacked his lips and slipped deeper into slumber.  
As he stood watching, Arthur hung his head and peered up at her. **“Well, that wouldn’t be satisfyin’ to you anyways, would it, darlin'?”** he looked up at her. **“I mean, I know it's hard, but don’t go scrapin' the bottom of the barrel. You need ‘im _awake_ ,”** he said, leaning forward with wide eyes and trying to slap his palms on the blanket as he stared down the version of himself sleeping peacefully in the kids' bed.  
And just like that, the setting around him snapped to a different scene.  
Eliza and the children were hunched under the thin crocheted lace tablecloth that had hung over their kitchen table, draping over the sides since Thanksgiving. But the Christmas tree in the corner was gone.  
She hushed and shushed their giggling when she saw Arthur’s figure in the rain through the window. As he opened and stepped through the front door and hung his coat and hat, she was grateful that the children remained silent. She watched him through the the crocheted lace and smiled when he quickly wagged his head to shake his hair free and ran his fingers back through his tawny chestnut locks.  
“Eliza, I—”  
She watched him pause and turn when he felt something off, when the usual sounds of his family and the hubbub of life did not greet him.  
He briskly walked past the table to the bedrooms, his jaw tilted and his eyes wary. “Eliza?” He popped his head into each bedroom, and coming up empty, began to sprint about the place in a near heart-racing flurry. “Isaac? Hope? Eliza!”  
Her brows came together at the strain of panic beginning to edge his voice, and she began to panic herself, that her plan would not be perceived as quite the good thing she’d hoped for, if she wasted another moment carrying it out.  
“Now, now!” she whispered to the children.  
“ _Surprise!_ ” they all shouted, jumping out from under the table.  
The color began to rise to his face again at the sight of them safe and healthy, and he let himself relax and sigh.  
Eliza smiled as she came forward and hung a little gold fabric sash over his shoulder and placed a shimmery-painted felt crown on his head. “They made ‘em for you.”  
“King Arthur!” Hope giggled and bounced.  
“We got you presents too!” Isaac said, going back under the table and dragging out a big wooden crate.  
“A brand new saddle!” Hope pointed into the crate. “I picked this one ‘cause I liked the pattern best.”  
It was a beautiful sable red leather saddle pressed with a sprawling, intricate leaf design, in mint condition from the top of the horn to the back of the seat.  
“Wow…” he let out in a breath.  
“And new spurs! Gold-plated. I picked those out,” Isaac said as he held them up and placed them in his hands.  
He looked down at the pair of spurs, so fine and clean that the light was glinting off them.  
“They’re—”  
“And an artist’s pack!” Isaac couldn’t help but hold out and open the final gift—a small rectangular leather briefcase. He eagerly pointed out the different items. “Loads of sketch pencils—different thickness levels, see? Real graphite! And look—watercolors and brushes! This one was mama’s idea. We know you never painted before, but she says she’s sure you’ll be fast at learnin’.”  
Arthur’s hand gently and slowly ran over the paint supplies, his fingertips running over the pencils, paint wells, and brushes. His gaze finally lifted and slid over to Eliza, who wore a hazy, rosy look in her eyes.  
“You… How did you…” he tried to find words.  
“I have my ways,” she grinned.  
He smirked. “That’s why you didn’t want me to go on that supply run with you three the other day.”  
“Mm-hm.”  
“Happy birthday, Papa!” Isaac smiled.  
“Happy birthday, Daddy!” Hope clapped. “1894! 1894!”  
“No, that ain’t how old he is, silly” Isaac laughed. “That’s the new year!”  
“Well, I’m juss three, okay?” Hope mumbled.  
Still looking into his eyes, Eliza began to smirk at the sounds of their children beside her.  
His smirk grew to match hers. “Well, it ain’t midnight, yet.”  
“We’re gonna play all our favorite games until the clock strikes!” Isaac smiled.  
“Then we can really say, ‘1894!’ and ‘Happy birthday Daddy!’” Hope sang.  
“But first!” Eliza held up a finger, eyeing both kids playfully with a growing grin. “We dance.” As she walked towards the phonograph she’d placed in the corner of the room, she caught Arthur’s confused expression and tipped her head with a shrug. “Promised Hope.”  
She put in place a special cylinder she’d bought for the occasion and started the phonograph, looking back at Arthur as the soft, smooth sounds of tinkling piano began to trickle from the horn. “All the way from Saint Denis,” she said with a smile as she began to gently sway where she stood.  
He was unable to peel his eyes away from her for a moment. She was dressed in a pale blue frock with a pattern of little flowers all over it, a gown she knew was one of his favorites on her. And he was nearly entranced by the sight of her swaying ever so slightly, the gathered skirt of her gown rocking back and forth with her. But he finally removed the crown and sash, setting them and the gifts down on the table as he knelt to give Isaac a hug and kiss Hope on the cheek.  
“Thank you both. You’re so thoughtful and sweet to me. I love my gifts,” he murmured to them. But as he straightened and made a move in Eliza’s direction, Hope tugged on his arm.  
“Won’t you dance with me peas, Daddy? Come on, dance with me!”  
He glanced up at Eliza as he let Hope pull him towards the sitting room. When she got him there, he turned and scooped her up, wrapping her under the arms so she was close to his chest. And he swayed with her back and forth as her little legs and feet dangled.  
“May I have this dance, Mama?” Isaac asked, holding out a hand to her.  
“Why, you certainly may, sweet sir,” she tipped her head with a smile as she placed her hand in his. And in another moment they were in the sitting room, Isaac’s feet atop hers as she stepped back and forth to the music.  
“I love you, Daddy,” Hope whispered, throwing her little arms around his neck.  
Arthur and Eliza couldn’t help but smile brightly at each other as they continued to sway with Hope and Isaac.  
When in a couple minutes the recording shifted to a different song, though just as beautiful, they disbanded, and Eliza went to the kitchen counter. Arthur followed her in a heartbeat and stood behind her as she began to pour a small glass of bourbon.  
“Happy birthday, baby,” she looked at him over her shoulder. When she’d poured it, she turned and placed the glass in his hand, looking up at him with a grin. “Thirty-one never looked so good.”  
He smirked and glanced down. “Well, you don’t know I’m quite there yet. I seriously doubt it’s New Years’ Day, of all days.”  
“We gotta celebrate ya sometime. First day of the year’s good a day as any. You always said you were all right with me makin’ little gestures for ya on New Years’.”  
He nodded and watched her as she turned back to pour herself a small glass of the bourbon. “Thank you, for all this,” he drawled low. “Can’t quite seem to find the right words to thank you for the art supplies. Makes me feel you must really…believe in me.”  
“‘Course I do, Arthur,” she glanced back at him. “In everything. I don’t want you to ever have the smallest doubt about that.”  
She turned towards the counter again and looked down at her glass. “It’s just, you know… I often think about…all the life you’ve lived already. The pain and the recklessness, sure, but…all the excitement and adventure too. And then I think of you, livin’ in this corner a’ the world…with a silly little girl and two children,” she scoffed a little laugh at the sound of the words leaving her mouth as she lifted the glass to her lips, tipping the edge and taking a little sip. “I get…concerned, you know,” she picked at the edge of the wooden counter. “That it ain’t enough. That you’ll get…bored. And that—”  
“That I’ll wanna leave?” He watched her eyes go still where they gazed past him at nothing as she held the glass to her lips and took another tiny sip. And he watched her smooth throat swallow the warm liquid. “Careful with that. You know you’re a lightweight.”  
He was grateful when her daze broke and she glanced up at him with a subtle smirk. He reached past her and set his glass on the counter, without ever having taken a drink. And as he did, he turned her until she was facing him squarely, coming close and crowding her a bit.  
He gazed deeply into her green eyes, lingering there for quite a few moments. “How many times I got to tell you, woman?” he whispered, and he watched her captured eyes look back into his. “All I need, and all I want, is right here. I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”  
Just as the song shifted to swanky bursts of trumpet, he promptly took her glass from her and set it on the counter behind her, slipping his arm around her narrow waist and quickly pulling her flush to him. And she eyed him with an incredulous, wary smirk.

["Saint Denis" phonograph music](https://youtu.be/fHjZQb-kGek?t=89)

He was still leaning forward over her when he brought her with him, swiftly, smoothly swaying together with her all across the room to the music. The small of her back was arched and held close by his big hands, her feet following closely behind his for each step.  
She’d never seen him dance once—and at first she’d been so shocked that her arms dangled at her sides while he guided her body to sway with him.  
When the children saw them dancing together, they jumped and hoorayed, clapping their hands.  
But the way he was guiding her to dance almost brought a blush to her cheeks—with no space to speak of between their waists, and a low swinging nature to his movements. It was almost mismatched with how lively he was leading. But it all somehow did fit the music; and when she was about to ask wryly where he’d suddenly learned such smooth moves, she glanced into his eyes and realized he was merely moving exactly how he felt.  
That realization was enough to send her grin spreading wide and bright, pops of laughter erupting from her throat, prickles all over her skin, and bursts of love like fireworks exploding through her chest. All set to the swanky, vibrant bursts of bright Saint Denis trumpets.  
She brought her hands up to hold him by his midsection. And as she watched him grin brightly at the sight of her smile and sound of her laugh, and felt him move so carefree, she wondered if he could feel it too, those same bursting fireworks.  
“I wanna play Slap Jack first!”  
“And I wanna eat poppin’ corn while we play!”  
they could hear the children say as they sashayed about the room, as if from afar off.  
Eliza looked into his eyes and asked softly, “What do you want, Arthur?”  
With his face still close to hers, his calm gaze waded down over her face and back into her eyes as her fingertips graced his jawline, and he slowly began to grin. “Nothin’. Absolutely nothin'.”  
Once again her grin widened into an unbridled smile, bright enough to rival the morning sun.  
He inched his mouth closer, inclining his lips to hers until they met for a soft kiss, lingering with their eyes closed for a few moments.  
And with his hand to her back he suddenly pressed her even closer to him, relishing in the sound of her laughter when he turned and whipped about the floor just a bit faster, bringing her tightly with him to keep up with the jig of the trumpets.  
And when Arthur woke alone in his cold cot, he could still hear those trumpets as they began to die away.  
What he couldn’t feel, and what he wanted more than anything, were those loving eyes looking back at him, the touch of those soft lips.

_“What do you want, Arthur?”_  
_“Nothin'. Absolutely nothin'.”_

* * *

“Give me a kiss to build a dream on,  
and my imagination will thrive upon that kiss.  
Mm, sweetheart, I ask no more than this:  
a kiss to build a dream on.

Give me a kiss before you leave me,  
and my imagination will feed my hungry heart.  
Mm, leave me one thing before we part:  
a kiss to build a dream on.

When I’m alone with my fancies,  
I’ll be with you.  
Weavin’ romances,  
makin' believe they’re true.

Oh, give me your lips for just a moment,  
and my imagination will make that moment live.  
Mm, give me what you alone can give:  
a kiss to build a dream on.”

  
\- Louis Armstrong, “A Kiss to Build a Dream On”

<https://youtu.be/fHjZQb-kGek>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sincerely hope you enjoyed this chapter. It was a real treat for me to write. 💕 I'll let you know that the inspiration for the scene of Hope sneaking & getting real close to make sure Arthur’s eyes were closed was inspired by stories of myself at about 18 months old. 😄
> 
> And if you listened to the music and it added to the scene for you at all, please let me know. ☺
> 
> Also, the only reason I was able to finish it and upload it in one week was because where I live, we've been in the middle of "snowmageddon," (way more snow than I've ever experienced in my life, -22° F wind chill, and an emergency storm warning) and I was cooped up in my apartment for 4 days at the beginning of this week with nothing else to do.
> 
> All that being said, please don't expect the next chapter in a week, since it's going to be next to impossible to get it ready in that time. 😉💌
> 
> Love to all,  
> Rosie


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